Do you know who your real friends are?

How many friends do you have? I have many acquaintances myself, and a few people I would categorize as close friends. Over the past years, I have been confronted with losing friends too. Or more realizing that the people I thought of as close friends didn’t turn out to be real friends after all. The revelation only happens in moments when you reveal your true self, your true troubles and suffering, that the masks drop and you figure out it was more a relationship of convenience than one of true friendship.

“You know, in Normandy it finally dawned in me that life really does begin at 40,” I tell Bakerman as I am poking around nosily in his baking atelier that afternoon.

“Oh how come?” Bakerman looks at me quizzically. He then shoves a plate with a huge sarnie under my nose.

“Can anyone fit that in their mouth?” I ask him eying the huge monstrosity with big popping eyes. “Reflecting back on life, poor circumstances and poor choices. But not anymore. Now I’m in command. No use crying over spilled milk. Life starts at 40.”

“I am sure you will manage to bite it,” Bakerman winks at me. “Go for it. You are 100% correct. But be aware of bad habits that will hold you back.”

“Oh am I going to try one?” I greedily accept the plate with the deliciously smelling sandwich. “Taste it I mean. Which bad habits?”

Maybe we’ll never quite figure out who our true friends are. Maybe it will take us until old age to realize who we truly loved and who we felt we could completely be ourselves around. I wonder which cues actually indicate when I am pretending to be someone I am not… maintaining relationships just for the sake of it. Maybe the real question is: am I happy this way?

Love,

Fiona

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