The only unsinkable form of relationships is friendship

Haley Miller

guest columnist

Losing a close friend is even more painful than a nasty breakup.

In a sense, we react to both situations in a very similar way: we become angry, depressed, embittered. We cut the other person out of our life, go cold-turkey, yet can’t help but be reminded of them everywhere we look.

We question the meaningfulness of our existence without them. We perhaps doubt our desirability as a friend and lover, and we stubbornly reject the capacity to love again.

Then, after awhile, what was initially impulsive bitterness and self-induced misery fades into self-reflection and insight. We acknowledge the faults we made in the relationship, and we want nothing more than to patch things up.

At least, that’s what I did.

A 0.22-second Google search will return 77 million results of how to get over a breakup. There are countless chick flicks depicting the “right way” to forget a lost love, and they usually involve support from a circle of close friends.

Friendship can’t be dealt with in the same manner, though. Unlike a breakup, the loss of a friend cannot usually be pinpointed to a specific cause, like cheating, loss of physical attraction or distance. Instead, the blame tends to lie within both parties. And your differences are much more likely to be resolved at the end of the day.

What really differentiates platonic relationships from romantic ones is that they are almost always salvageable.

Just because you enjoy dating someone doesn’t guarantee that you will fall in love with them. Dating itself is often regarded as a sort of game designed to help one gain experience, reveal more about their preferences, and ultimately learn how a healthy relationship functions.

Even if a relationship turns sour toward the end, it is usually written off as a valuable lesson learned and a chance to improve your next romantic involvement.

In close friendships, on the other hand, some form of love nearly always develops. True friendship is like a flower that blooms throughout all seasons — resilient and enduring.

You don’t discard a friend if the two of you aren’t “compatible;” instead, the point of friendship is to gather a group of eclectic individuals together with whom you share varying degrees of compatibility to help guide you through the ups and downs of life.

I may not have a huge group of friends, but I love each and every one of them dearly, in different ways and for different reasons.

I do not necessarily hang out with them very often, but when I do, our time together is treasured.

Friendship is invaluable.

One thing I really hated about high school was the fickleness of relationships — romantic or platonic — they never seem to last.

In just four years’ time, I acquired five or six different “best” friends who changed as the seasons passed. My closeness to people depended largely on how much I saw of them, rather than the quality of our interactions.

I now realize the stupidity of applying that label of best friend, as love and intimacy are not quantitative measurements.

Already, I’ve been able to sort out which friendships I will probably maintain throughout college and beyond. As I switched yearbooks with people on the last few days of school, I realized there are some I won’t see until our 10th high school reunion.

And while that thought made me incredibly sad, it reinforced the belief that friends are the most valuable eternal commodity.

When my friends and I go our own ways in the fall, I hope more than anything that physical distance is what separates us rather than emotional distance.

I will hold each one of them tight, in my heart.

Haley Miller will be a freshman at Pacific Lutheran University this fall. She may be contacted by e-mail at haleymiller09@gmail.com.