I have a complex relationship with the concept of friendship. As an extrovert with diagnosed social anxiety disorder, making friends is a horrific necessity.

I’m constantly faced with two unpleasant choices. I can either walk into anxiety and open myself up to friendship, or I can avoid the discomfort and end up depressed from social isolation.

It’s a good time.

When I close my eyes and try to envision my concept of friendship, I often see myself as a body floating in a terrifying expanse of nothingness. I lay on my back and stare up at a domain that is formed entirely of the absence of light.

My friendships are then the tethers that come and wrap around my body and keep me from drifting away. They emerge from all sides of the darkness and twine themselves around my ankles, my wrists, my abdomen, my shoulders. They tighten in such a way that their oppositional forces keep me completely stationary and secure.

The buffeting forces of the universe cannot take me away when I am tied down so forcefully.

I am not sure where this mental imagery comes from. But it’s always there.