friendship is like fine wine

I appreciate communication. I have almost always spoke my mind. I am fiercely protective of friends and family. I get hurt when my friends are hurt. I get mad when my friends are hurt. Something I said was misconstrued by a friend. I expressed concern for health and safety, but this message was received as if I were being malicious. I know that. I apologized. I thank my lucky stars (bad cliche!) that I have two close friends in this world who would speak to me directly when something bothers them. One of them rarely has a problem with anything because there are so many areas where we are so similar. The other one is the kind of friend who would call me to the curb if I made them mad or did something inappropriate. They both act differently, and the latter is more in your face, abrupt, while the former is more tactful. More sensitive. When I upset people it hurts me. I want to please people. When I was in high school I could care less what anyone thought about what I did or said. I could really care less. In college all that changed when my world was stripped from me, ripped from me, and tossed aside before I created it anew. I am not who I once was. I appreciate my friends. I have a good group. I have moved across the country away from my family for my best friend. Friends help keep me here. I have better friends here than anywhere. There are conflicts, and people talk about one another. I've seen it. Some of it is viable and some is not. I've seen it. I've heard it. I have been more upset in the past about things I've done or said, and I know in the past I have had deserved it. I can tell you one time in particular, dear reader, but I do believe now that only four people ever even bother looking at this thing, so I will not bother. One of you know the story, the rest of you never will. This time is different. Surely my loving friend will learn of my intent. Surely. So here we go. Post away, Mr. A. Have fun with this.