Friends

Which is bet­ter, to have many peo­ple you call “friends,” or just a few that you hold dear in your heart? It seems to me that, for ages, soci­ety has told us that we’re not wor­thy unless we’re loved by many. Media tells us that being alone is a hor­ri­ble thing. If some­one dies, and only a few peo­ple attend the ser­vice, it’s sad. It doesn’t mat­ter if the peo­ple who pro­fess to be your “friend” are as phony as a three dol­lar bill, it’s just impor­tant that they all say they’re your buddy. Back when Sail Inn was still open, I would have said that I had lots of friends; and I would have been wrong. The truth is, there are only a few peo­ple in the world that I truly love, that I would call “friend,” and I’m fine with that. For any­one com­ing into this inter­net tide-water via MySpace, real­ize that I’m not con­dem­ing those who’s list of friends counts in the hun­dreds. Everyone is dif­fer­ent, and I’m admit­tedly a sociopath. I’m just say­ing that, for myself, it’s the qual­ity of the friend­ship that mat­ters more than any­thing; and I’ve been lucky to have a very few

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