When You're Always The One Who Cares Too Much
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When You're Always The One Who Cares Too Much

Sometimes you have to be your own best friend.

When You're Always The One Who Cares Too Much

Right now there are tentatively 7,432,663,275 people breathing on our planet. Daughters, sons, mothers, lovers, fathers, friends. Friends. What a very fleeting word. With that amount of people in the world, we must think that everyone is friends to someone, all different kinds. There are the flaky ones, the awful ones, the decent ones, the seasonal ones, and there are the ones that always seem to care just a little bit more than the others. Whether it be an extra long letter to someone just because, or telling them a song they heard made them think of them. A color in the sunset that evening looked like their eyes. I am that friend. And when you are that friend after a while you begin to realize all the pieces of yourself that you pass out to everyone else. You give all your friends your time, love, honesty, often money and always the utmost thought and care. But it is never reciprocated. It is only ever given and there is only so many parts of myself that I can lend to other people. Sometimes I need just a little thought back in return.

But when you're the friend that cares too much, you're stuck driving every weekend to parties because you care more about getting your friends home safe than risking a drunk driver. Or you're stuck paying for an Uber because no one else thought to bring any money, only concerned about themselves.

You've planned your own birthday for as long as you can remember, except for when you were too little and your parents did it. No one surprises you with those big gold "20" balloons that everyone else's friends seem to get them. You don't get anything as simple as a cake. Because for some reason, even though you do everything for everyone else, you aren't worth the celebration. In fact, you plan and pay for your entire birthday weekend, hotel, everything, just so your friends would go. And that doesn't feel good. In fact, it stings. Like ketchup on a cold sore kind of a sting. Lingering and painful.

There are no surprises at the front door, there were never any promposals. In fact, I remember in high school two of my guy friends dropped a pair of shoes I left in their car at my house. They used tea lights they had just used to ask another girl to prom to surround the shoes, thinking it was funny and called me to come downstairs. I was 18 and just wanted to be wanted like everyone else. And I remember the way my stomach felt when I looked out my window and saw the lights, I thought "this is it! finally something good happened to me!" And when I realized they were just innocently kidding, and had no intent of it being anything but a stupid joke, my insides felt like someone dropped a water balloon onto the pavement. How silly was I to think that someone would care for me the way I care for everyone else.

And I kid myself, I really do. I create these false realities where I truly believe people care about me more than I care about them. And that's what gets me through it all. And I'm never going to stop caring about the people I love. Because I honestly don't believe that this is all for nothing. One day, whether it's tomorrow or 10 years from now, there will be someone who will appreciate all the little things I do. How I remember every single one of my college friends from homes names. Or how I would leave wherever I was, even a boy's house, to pick up my inebriated friends at 4 am because they want fast food, fully aware that none of them would do the same for me. I used to get angry at myself for putting in so much unreciprocated effort. But there is nothing wrong with giving a crap about the important people in your life. One day someone will get me a birthday cake or a long written out card like I do for them, and until that day comes I will continue to do as much as I can as often as I can for my friends. Most importantly, I do not want pity because I don't receive the love I give. A little appreciation wouldn't hurt but I know caring will always be an important part of the person I am. So I'm sorry if I care too much, but I probably always will. So if you're by yourself sitting on your kitchen floor wondering if anyone is thinking about you, I probably am.

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This article has not been reviewed by Odyssey HQ and solely reflects the ideas and opinions of the creator.

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