Why I Don't Have Female Friends - And Why I Want To Keep This One

She was emotional, fragile, immature. She constantly made assumptions and picked fights when things didn't go her way. She demanded special treatment and pouted when refused. Somehow, through all of this, I had come to call her friend. But I was starting to wear thin. Everything was so dramatic with her. One small fracture in her perfect world and she was ready to end it all.

Meanwhile, I had to sit there and comfort her. I had to make her feel better because I was her friend and I cared. On the inside: I have never had an easy day in my life. Abuse. Neglect. Being moved from place to place, school to school, home to home. Crumbling, infested buildings where I didn't even have a bedroom. Where I kept my things in my mum's room and slept in the hallway or on the couch. Being beaten up daily by my sibling and kids from school. More suicide attempts than I'll ever admit, starting as young as when I was eight. Anorexia. Self harm. Drugs. Anything to make it stop. Sneaking out, being reckless, moving from boyfriend to boyfriend in a desperate search for love and worth. Being beaten by some boyfriends. Cutting myself in concealed places so no one would notice: my stomach, my thighs, ribs, chest. Crying myself to sleep every single night for years. Friends telling my secrets to the whole school. Being blackmailed by them. My closest friend lying to my brother by saying I was a lesbian (among many other false claims), which resulted in a huge family fight that almost got me given up for adoption. And here you are. You can't go somewhere you want? The world suddenly isn't worth living in. Your mum can't give you something you wanted? She must not love you. A friend didn't want to put up with you for one measly day because they are having a hard enough day without your mood swings? You go full emo and talk about how the world is cruel and unloving.

I was angry. I tried to reason that to someone with a life such as hers, these must seem like terrible hardships. Perhaps there was more to it than I was told. But with each of these episodes, it became harder and harder to find some sort of explanation in my mind. I tried to be good. I did. I tried to listen and help, to put things into realistic perspective, to give her a dose of tough love or reality for her own good - because one day, she would be out in the world and see how things really are. And because I love her like a sister, I wanted to make the transition into a real and hard life as smooth as possible. I even offered to let her come live with me. To help her pursue her dreams, whatever they may be. I gave what little I had so that she could feel loved.

But no.

Today, I was having one of the hardest in a while. Several small, but important issues merged into one gigantic "fuck you." I was caught in the middle. They all wanted me to take sides, but at the same time they were sure to get pissed with any decision I made - even if it was on their side. They demanded I mediate. I couldn't turn my back. Family is family, blood or no. And she chooses today to get short tempered. I accidentally sent one harmless message to her instead of someone else, and it offended her. "Done. Bye." An agreement to do something and quick parting for someone else turned into "I hate you" to her.

She makes assumptions all the time. About everything. Instead of asking for clarity to make sure that something is intended the way she took it, she immediately pulls out the guns and starts firing. So when that simple message was accidentally sent to her (while I was typing a long message in a notepad, explaining something she was asking about), she asked what the hell my problem was and told me to stop freaking the hell out on her. This was the last straw for me. She already knew I was feeling ill. That alone should have (in my mind) made her a little bit kinder. I lost my temper and snapped back that I meant to send the message in another chat and that I was tired of her making assumptions and shitting all over me about it.

"Likewise." Really? I have never been unreasonable. If I did something out of anger, it was always justified. I even asked three or four people that always tell me the truth, even if the truth is "you're an asshole." They thought it was justified. But that's beside the point. I don't need to go down that road right now.

"I'm just tired of getting stomped over most of the time." This really upset me. Everything I've done, I've done to help her. Whether to make her into a more well-rounded and grounded person, to tell her the truth even if it's not what she wants to hear, to be honest always, to take into consideration the situation. She appreciates nothing. I wonder if I should even let her move here. On the one hand, for some reason she matters to me - more than most. She's the complete opposite of me and sometimes I want to hit her over the head with a brick, but in her own way she does try to help - sometimes. On the other hand, she's emotional and moody, unrealistic, quick to jump to conclusions, dramatic, holds grudges... I could find a million things to complain about. But for some reason, even looking at all of that, I still care. I still want the best for her. I still want to see her happy.

And I really fucking hate that.

I hate that I should have every reason to walk away by my standards, but for some reason I can't. I think about all the times she's made my life stressful and made me scream into a pillow until I couldn't speak... and all I want is to make up with her.

My point is, I don't like being friends with 99.8% of the female population. They're hormonal, irrational, frustrating, tedious, and I just hate them. But for some reason, she seems to be the only female friend that I just can't let go of. That (for some confusing and frustrating reason) I don't want to let go of. 

She will probably read this and we'll probably get into another horrible fight. But in the end, I'll still try to find a way to fix it, even though I will be positive I'm not in the wrong. I will still make myself sick and lose sleep, allow my depression to creep up and medicate with alcohol, become moody and withdrawn until things are back to normal between us. I will still write hundreds of passive aggressive statuses and delete them before even posting them. I will still complain to my guy friends about "women." I will still rant and rave to the empty house... I will still exercise until I vomit, "accidentally" cut or scrape myself on surfaces to feel calm when I get angry over it, still obsess about every single syllable, still type out countless messages that will never be sent - angry, sad, sorry, begging, raging, and nonchalant. And in the end, I will still need her in my life.

Because God knows why. And it's either a sick joke He's playing on me, or she's here for a reason. I'm betting on the latter, and I intend to stick with her until she is sick of me. Which, based on our recent argument, is likely to be soon.

And I'll still be wondering why.