Sometimes I wonder if my friends really exist. I so often find myself without them that I begin to think I conjured them up in the first place. How many times have I heard myself mutter, yup, alone again? It's become a familiar fabric on which my life has been painted. Starting new, meeting people, introducing myself, scrounging to find things to be involved in, people who are like me to hang out with. It's become easy for me to strike up conversations with people but it is hard to make friends out of those conversations. Unless I prove myself, I am just a passing face in a crowd.

Although I'm not fond of feeling alone, I do feel a particular thrill walking into a room full of people I don't know. It's like the room is a blank pallet and as I meet people, their stories and personality adds color and form to the greater picture of the whole. I like that process. I guess it's a feeling of discovery. Once people know me and I know them, some of the intrigue is drained out of the situation. But it is at this point that I start looking for people I could be close with, people who are like me, people with whom I could develop lasting friendships. This is by far, the hardest thing of all.