“Hey, I’m Vicky. Nice to meet you.”
“Me? I’m taking Arts One.”
“Hoping to major in English Literature or Psychology, haha.”
These were my opening statements during the first few weeks at UBC (and now my blog) whenever I met someone new. Safe, ordinary phrases that said more about my education than me as a person. If I had a choice in the matter, this is how I’d rather my introductions begin:
“Hey, I’m Vicky, but you can call me a train wreck because that’s what I am a lot of the time. I get sad a lot and overthink things, but I’m trying my best to remain positive. I’m sorry if I seem strange, though that’d be an understatement, but you seem really cool and I like your shoes.”
“…Wait, where are you going?”
Obviously, based on social circumstances, I can’t simply blather out something like this. Rather, anyone who heard this coming from the mouth of a stranger would probably pretend to have something important to attend to and run away with flailing arms. See, this is the problem I’ve been having for the past few weeks, i.e., how to make friends.
——
Making friends was always a natural process for me. In elementary, you simply walked up to someone and joined in on whatever game or endeavor they were giggling over and boom: instantaneous bonding. Even in high school, making friends was a cinch. The small class sizes coupled with the fact that the faces surrounding you were familiar as there were only so many classes to take made it so that forming relationships was simple enough. I made friends over laughing and complaining about courses and teasing and in unknown ways. Before I knew it, I had a group of lovely people whom I wanted to share all my experiences with. These people made school worthwhile – although learning was great, getting to be with the people I liked was what kept me going.
But high school didn’t last forever. Of course, that would have been weird. We all parted ways for university and made the most of our last summer together. (is this a soap opera stop it Vicky) I wasn’t too worried; surely we’d stay in touch and I’d make some friends in university and it’d all work out somehow. But after being on campus for two weeks, I realized that I had forgotten how to make friends. Something that used to come so naturally was replaced by something else: uncertainty. Fear. Insecurity. For the first time in my life, I felt pressured to make friends.
Suddenly, I felt as if my childish beliefs and things I adored couldn’t compare to some of the thoughts and interests of my peers. I didn’t have a burning passion for anything. I was boring, and shy, and awkward in social situations. Even working up the courage to strike up a conversation was nerve-wrecking. I always went home right after classes because I convinced myself that “it’ll happen tomorrow.” But the ‘me’ in those tomorrows I had envisioned was still the ‘me’ in those yesterdays. A coward. When my friends asked how school was and shared all of their great experiences with people with me, I’d tell them “That’s great!” and they’d ask “So how’s everything going with you?” to which the only response I could give was “Fine.”
To be honest, I haven’t been a total hermit. I’ve made contact (alien??) with people in my classes, and I think that my overwhelming desire to skip through the awkward first stages of the friendship and head straight to the part where it would be acceptable to insult each other lovingly is what has been making this especially difficult. Perhaps it’s due to the fact that this connection has always been there in some form. These days, people don’t want to break down their walls nor do they have the time for ‘about me’s – they want a name, a face and something that indicates you’re special in a way. Or normal. None of this “I’m kind of sad” business, which I totally understand because, hey, bearing your soul to a perfect stranger is irrational. So I guess normalcy will have to do. “Hey, I’m Vicky, and I’m in Arts One”s will have to suffice until I’m able to tell someone that sometimes, I like the stems on flowers more than the flower itself because it’s proof that it’s connected to the world and alive; that I find solace in thunderstorms because they drown out the silence surrounding me; that the rain will forever be comforting because it swims even as it falls and breaks.
It’ll happen tomorrow. I might still be the ‘me’ I am today but it’s all I’ve got, and in the wise words of Kevin G:
Maybe ‘me’ is good enough to make a few friends. 