Friendly Gestures

I have developed the bad habit of forming fictional relationships with people in my head. That and I bite my nails. But I’m best friends with several people who don’t even know I exist. Not only am I friends with teachers who have better things to do with their time than spend it on me, but I am also pretty tight with Johnny Depp. Brittany Spears and I were close a few years ago, but she quit speaking to me when I accused her of smoking crack. All joking aside, the purpose here is clear- I have to make up friends because I am so lonely. Of course I don’t really know Johnny Depp.
When I was little, my mother noticed that I was a different child. I could read at age three. I could draw a perfect horse that would probably make anything you could draw look like a moose running backwards through a field that was on fire because Brittany Spears threw a joint down in some dry grass. I was counting and memorizing anything people said around me. I was like a little rolodex with band-aids on my knees. Everyone knew I was going to be different.
My intelligence isn’t the only thing that sets me apart. I had- still have this innocence about me. I haven’t ever been able to do wrong, hold a grudge, receive criticism, misplace a pen, or lose a nickel without feeling guilty for a couple of days. It isn’t a quality that I necessarily enjoy. I can’t get away with anything for more than five minutes. Lies eat me alive. It kept me from being good at hide and seek, I felt so guilty when they couldn’t find me.
Because I haven’t ever been adventurous and outgoing I haven’t ever made a lot of friends. I don’t like to walk up to some stranger and introduce myself. Even if I do, within a few minutes I have them running in fear from my freakish, possessive personality. If you ever make the mistake of being kind to me, you’re mine until you die or really try to make me hate you. As my father says, “Like me and I will love you.” I apologize for following you home last week, I pretended that you invited me. I don’t have a lot of friends, let me have my fun.
The few real life friends I have- the palpable ones- they understand. They know that I own their metaphorical souls. They know to be wary of the jagged edge between me and crazy. It is a fine, fluctuating line between me and that moldy strait jacket that Brittany Spears broke out of so she could shave her head. They are too worried about me to allow me to fall over that edge.
I’m not asking for your sympathy. I am completely okay with my imaginary relationships. I am simply issuing a warning to those who encounter me. I just wanted to let you know that I am one of those people who take everything literal. “We should hang out,” means I will be outside your door in two minutes, so make sure you have some pants on. Don’t get me wrong- I love pretending that we are best friends, but it would be really nice to meet someone who really wanted to be friends.
Sorry to run off but Brittany is calling
-Jessica D. Hunt