Reflections on Friendship and Self-Perception
I often wonder how my arrogance is perceived by others, especially when I find myself in conversations with people whose worldviews differ significantly from my own. I’ve been told that I come across as disagreeable, and it makes me question how I’m being interpreted. At the same time, I generally get along with most people, which leads me to reflect on what it means to truly connect with someone, and more importantly, what I consider to be a real friend.
The experience of moving away from home has been a profound eye-opener. It’s one of those things no one really prepares you for. When you’ve spent most of your life in familiar surroundings, making friends seems effortless. You have your childhood friends, the people you’ve grown up with, and over time, the idea of “friendship” becomes synonymous with those long-standing relationships. But when you move, you’re suddenly thrust into an unfamiliar environment where friendships don’t happen organically. You start to realize that making friends is tough, and it’s even tougher to find friends who truly align with your values and support you through the inevitable challenges of life.
Despite caring deeply for others, I’ve found it incredibly difficult to form genuine connections in my new environment. I’ve always been someone who naturally takes an interest in others, no matter how long I’ve known them. I care about their stories, their struggles, and their aspirations. Yet, despite this openness and compassion, I’ve struggled to find the kind of friendship that feels reciprocal. It’s one thing to care for others, but it’s another to feel like your own concerns are valued and heard in return. The more I’ve focused on improving myself, the more I’ve noticed that some of the people around me seem to bring a lot of unnecessary strife into my life — strife that I don’t have the energy or time to entertain anymore.
As someone who is working on self-growth and striving for something better, I find it increasingly difficult to tolerate the emotional baggage and personal issues my new friends bring into our interactions. It’s not that I don’t care; I do. But the problem arises when it feels like the relationship is one-sided. I’m expected to listen, support, and offer advice, but when it comes time for them to do the same for me, there’s a noticeable lack of effort. It has made me reevaluate what I really need from a friendship. Mutual support is essential. I don’t mind being there for someone in their time of need, but I need the same respect in return. I want relationships where my concerns are valued and not overshadowed every time by the problems of others. A friendship, to me, should be a balance — a partnership where both people can lean on each other when necessary.
Reflecting on this more deeply, I’ve realized that I’ve never really had to consciously make friends before. Most of my close relationships were formed during childhood, a time when connections just seemed to happen naturally. You grew up together, went through similar experiences, and didn’t have to put much effort into defining those bonds. But as I’ve gotten older and moved away, I’ve been forced to understand the complexities of adult friendships. It’s not as simple as it once was. You start to see that the world is full of people who only care when it’s convenient for them, and this was something I was never truly prepared for. I wasn’t taught how to navigate these relationships, especially when you’re someone who genuinely cares about others.
Now, as I dive deeper into the concept of individualism, I’ve started to think more about how this applies to my life and the relationships I keep. The more I venture out into the world, the more I realize that many people will try to take advantage of kindness. It’s as though some people see generosity as a weakness, something they can exploit to their benefit. They think they’re smarter, that they can manipulate situations to their advantage, using your empathy and good nature against you. People thought I was the lick, but I see what they are gaming at. This has been a hard lesson to learn, but it’s made me more aware of the type of people I want in my life.
A true friend, to me, is someone who doesn’t try to use you for their own gain. They respect your individualism and support your growth, even if it’s inconvenient for them. They don’t question why you make certain decisions because they trust in your ability to navigate your own path. A true friend is there to encourage you to become the best version of yourself, without selfish motives or hidden agendas. This has become my definition of friendship — someone who genuinely wants the best for you, not just when it aligns with their needs, but always.
As I’ve grown more aware of the kind of people I want in my life, I’ve also developed a sense of discernment. It’s like an instinct or intuition that helps me see through the façades people put up. You start to recognize that many people boast about their strengths in an attempt to hide their insecurities. They flaunt their achievements or qualities because, deep down, they’re unsure of themselves. I’ve learned that a true friend doesn’t need to showcase their worth — they demonstrate it through their actions. They don’t need constant validation or recognition because their value is evident in how they treat you and the people around them.
In the end, I’ve come to understand that true friendship is rare. It requires effort, patience, and a deep sense of mutual respect. It’s about being there for each other, not just when it’s easy, but when it’s hard. It’s about valuing each other’s individual paths while still finding ways to support one another. And most importantly, it’s about knowing that your kindness and care won’t be exploited, but reciprocated and that your growth will be celebrated, not stifled.