“Well, that clears that up.”

Set atop a field of gray on my monstrously oversized iPhone’s display, those five words drew my attention to a friend whose message the night before I failed to answer. Not that I read his prior message in its entirety, but I noticed receiving it and I asininely failed to respond.

The message in question: “So, I could really use a friend lately," a friend wrote me. I was aware he messaged me, but I hadn't attended to his message in a respectable timeframe. Now I feel like an asshole, for good reason. too.

Purposely digressing from that thread, but there’s a certain trend established. Not even a month ago I failed to fulfill a promise to a friend, a failure that made an already tenuous situation worse. Already suffering from communications failure, I promised to reach out within a couple days and I did not. Even mentioning to her that my days became unexpectedly fraught with activity would have gone a long way in letting her know that I value and respect our friendship.

Connecting the two examples is a trend embraced in recent years of me to lose track of my priorities. Distracted easily, and often my own problems, depression, and anxiety, I often forget to honor my friends with the same attention with which they honored me. It isn’t that I don’t appreciate them, and, in fact, that couldn’t be further from the truth. However, because I’ve failed – repeated failed – to validate my extremely high regard of a select handful of people, the impression that I don’t care have been accidentally and effectively conveyed.

♫ “If I could turn back time/ if I could find a way…” ♫

Okay, if you didn’t start singing the once popular Cher song, there’s something wrong with you. Or there’s something wrong with me since I thought to take things in that direction. That’s my attention span at work. Anyway, I digress.

If I could turn back the clock and redirect my mental energies into fostering and deepening the rapport between us, I’d do just that. If I could retroactively fulfill every promise, I’d do just that. If I exhibit greater control of my faculties during my more distracted moments, I’d do just that. There are scores of things I’d redo if given the chance, but that’s not in the cards.

Unfortunately, being a better person is easier said than done. Beset by my own problems, I tend to retreat severely inward. It’s not that I necessarily enjoyed hiding from the world, but sometimes it’s just what happens. I’ll see the friends to whom I should – and want to – to engage, but I’m at a loss for words. Sometimes the proverbial cat has got my tongue, or I just want to spend a few minutes thinking of the perfect thing to say. I want give you the most appropriate attention you deserve, and there are times when I just can’t offer that. So I wait. Then I worry that I’ve waited too long, and I lose a sense of when it would be appropriate to reach out.

Then I forget.

Then you’re left with the sensation that I don’t care. It’s rude and it’s shitty and it’s disrespectful. It’s not fair to you. It’s not fair to me, but with as many infractions of which I am guilty, I can only accept the occurrences and think to myself how karmic it is.

My conduct is better than it was a year (and some change) ago. I’ve covered incredible distances along the road to personal improvement, but the road ahead stretches on and on. I can tell you I’ll try harder and that I’ll be better, but I can’t promise that I won’t make mistakes. I can’t promise that I won’t flake out from time to time. If you decide to bail on the friendship, I won’t be angry and I’ll even understand, despite my intense sadness.

For those of you that still think well of me, I tip my hat to you. I cherish the memories and the times we share. Tears threaten to stream down my face when I think of the faith you have in me. It truly boggles my mind. I appreciate you with every fiber of my being, from head to toe and every square inch of my all too chubbly body.

Yes, if you’re wondering, I did deliberately write “chubbly.” Autocorrect be damned. It sounds more fun, and when I’m feeling awfully melancholy or pathetic, I’ll take whatever makes me smile.

An email signature, and a personal quote of mine, is: "My goal is not to have thousands of friends at my funeral, but enough good ones to carry my casket." I think I’ll be okay on that count, but some of you carrying my coffin will be some amazing women, even more so because you put up with me.

Thank you for reading all the way to the end and thank you, assuming we are friends, for sticking with me, despite all the bullshit. That said...