What is that word?

More importantly, who is that word?

I see a lot of people but most often than not, they just pass me by. I get it though. I really am no queen of good first impressions. Well, that’s pretty much okay. I ain’t one for attention anyway. For those who stayed (or are forced by circumstances to), I don’t really know if I can call them that. Yes, in a certain way, I have felt happiness with and for them, feel this urge to protect them and trade jokes with them.

But is that all? I wonder.

There are a few people who had been there in my ups and downs. I can literally count them using my fingers. I wonder, again, is that enough of a qualification? There are people I tried sharing my worries about. They listened and gave me advice. Yet again, I wondered if that is how you classify a friend. There are people I’ve broken this walled heart for, worthy or not. There are not many whom I have cried and laughed with. Still a few whom I tried reaching out and understanding although I’ve had a problem of comprehending even myself. There are people I would gladly take bungee jumping with although it scares the hell out of me, whom I would abandon the introverted me just to go to a social gathering, whom I would stay with until the sun rises just for them to talk about what made them cry last night or what made them upset this afternoon. These are people I have given my trust and showed my vulnerability to. These are people whom I have given permission to what lies beyond the cold exterior, the sharp tongue and poker face.

Are these what you can call ‘friend’ then?

Because until now, I keep clutching the hands of people around me as if they can save me from self-destructing but I always wonder if what I am holding onto is just imaginary or a real one. I wonder if I’m just holding them back. I wonder if they are really meant to stay with me. 

I wonder.

What is a friend?

Most importantly, who is a friend?

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