Have you got everything you need? Cheers.

When relating to fiction, most people tend to put themselves in the protagonist's role. For example, with the television show The Office, viewers are likely to see themselves as Jim Halpert/Tim Canterbury rather than Michael Scott/David Brent or Dwight Schrute/Gareth Keenan. While it's obvious that these characters are exaggerated to the point of artificiality, most of us know people in our own lives with these characteristics. The funny thing is that even the guy at your own office that you would swear is the template for Dwight probably puts himself in Jim's shoes. Or, at the very least, sees himself as a fledgling version of Jim. He may not be as witty or likable, but he tries to be.

On the other end, I keep relating to the desperate boss. I had always empathized with Michael and David; for as crass and as clueless as they often were, I can't dislike someone who's just trying to make everyone else happy. Sometimes I wonder if I come off that way. The truth is, I know I am that way. I like to think I'm not as off-putting as those characters, though. Particularly recently, I feel like I'm the one always extending invitations and I'm lucky if I can even get a few people to RSVP, let alone invite me to their own parties.

Everything seems particularly poignant now. In another month, I'll be all out of chances to see a lot of people. There will be plenty of people I consider friends that won't see again until the five-year reunion, if even then. Though it sounds pessimistic, I know that this won't bother me for the vast majority of people. It's the same with graduating high school or even grade school. There were plenty of classmates that I thought it would be nice to keep in touch with over the years, but the reality is that I was never that close to them and it didn't really matter to me. It'd be great to see many of them again, but it won't be the rekindling of a friendship. I think I already know the five or so people that I'll keep in touch with in the next decade, but of course I could still be surprised. The thing that bothers me is that I feel like I'll be doing all the work for one in particular, which leads me to think that maybe it's not worth the effort if I'm the only one invested.

I've always had a sort of feeling that I'm always the one seeking the friendship of others and no is seeking me. Then, if I were to just stop doing anything on my end, people would just move on and forget about me. This fear has unfortunately become more piercing in recent months. I feel like I'm waving my arms from a hundred miles away trying to get people's attention. Luckily, I do get their attention, but I wonder if anyone would notice me if I weren't waving my arms. And the worst is yet to come. When everyone else finishes the race a month from now, I'll still be on the track, a lap behind. By the time I finish, the podium will be clear and the stands empty, except for a few friends. I know I'll be grateful for the friends that are there, but I'll be hurt by the ones that aren't.