Day at the Park

You and your friend are sitting at the park. You both are looking out at the distant cityscape. She just told a joke, you are struggling to inhale because of all the laughter and are wondering if this is one of the best moments of your life. When you think about it, though, you realize you were at the park just yesterday, and were similarly joking around with friends. In a way, actually, this is one of the more typical experiences of your life. In fact, you’re now wondering if you are a bit bored, and all the laughter was a bit forced. Ultimately, you're indecisive about whether this moment is amazing or mundane, and you now wonder if this ambiguity itself is a bit sad.

You’re still looking out, but less at the cityscape and more at the other people in the park. There are hundreds of people. A lot of them are laughing, and now that you’re focused you can hear all of their conversations. You feel like you’re with them for all of their jokes, hollers, yells, screams, at once. This is overwhelming. Now you are terrified and want to leave the park. You cannot remember if it has always been this overwhelming, or terrifying, or if you’re for the first time noticing the chaos of a packed park.

Your friend is no longer laughing, but smiles at the park before her. She doesn’t seem to be growing through the same cycles of exhilaration, boredom and fright as you are. You realize, though, that you're not truly aware of how she’s feeling. You have never been aware. She’s smiling, but so have you through your whirlwind of feelings, so how can you trust her expression? You ask her.

“How are you feeling right now?” “Pretty good, how about you?” “Well, ultimately, I feel fine, like I feel everything is pretty normal right now. But also, I kind of feel like I am going insane.”

She doesn’t respond to this, but she is no longer smiling. She’s grimacing. You trust more that she was genuinely content before, but that your words have disturbed her. You want to make her happy, or at least content, again.

“I am pretty unsure about what to do to feel better, but I want to know what you want. Is there anything you want to do?” “I am pretty good just chilling here at the park.”

This is the rift between you and your friend. You cannot tell if this moment is ordinary, terrifying or terrific, but know that you want to leave the park. Your friend, on the other hand, wants to remain. You are not sure if this is the only thing she wants but it is the only thing she said. You are hanging out with each other, but it is impossible that you will both get what you want. How can you affirm a friendship in moments like this?