Your Real Friends Are Not the Ones Who Come to Your Funeral

They’re in the coffin with you.

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

This isn’t an inspirational story. This is my story. This is the story of how I “got friends”.

When I was in 20 and in college, all I did was go to class, go to Jiu-Jitsu practice, and go home and be sad. I didn’t go out. I didn’t “party”. I trained, studied, and cried. For years, that was my real life.

I was living with my parents, and I battling some pretty heavy depression and stuck in derealization, and I was painfully insecure about everything.

I was so insecure and I clung to my friends like a tick to a dog. My friends were growing up and moving on with their lives and doing exciting things, and all I wanted was someone, anyone, to connect with me.

For my as long as I can remember, I was deeply insecure about everything I did — even my “greatest achievements”. I lived like this for years until I learned about genuine friendship, kindness, and support. Now that I’ve felt it, I’m never going back.

This is how I learned to enjoy being alone.

Solitude makes you a less obnoxious dude

I used to require validation from other people to get through the day. If I didn’t hear from my friends…