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On the top ten of anorexia bothering score is isolation. I think that I would never be superextrovertish even if I never got sick and actually it is miracle that I still have couple of really good friends, but I mean rather the feeling of isolation. I think you know.
For a long years my best friend was K., a girl I met during my first hospitalisation when I was fifteen. She came approximately six weeks after me and our friendship was the real turning point for me (well, it could be the effect of antidepressants or weight gain, but at that time I connected it with K.). Suddenly the possibility that I didn´t expect no more came true: someone understands. And I understand her. Almost everything. Our therapists weren´t so enthusiastic as us, but we were inseparable. Our friendship continued after release. I think K. esentially participates on a fact that I didn´t relapse during the first year after IP. I saw her always frailer and "sicker" than me, she had some serious family trouble and I felt somehow responsible for her and I didn´t want to be a bad role model. We spend together really insane amount of time, weekends, holidays, trips plus all that virtual time in letters and messages. It´s weird but despite of my overexpressed competitivity I never felt like competing with K. She was there always for me and vice versa. This interlude lasts approximately 2,5 years. I studied 6 months in Switzerland because my dad was working for WHO and he thinks I neeed to improve my French. We called and write letters with K. excessively, but after I came back home, our friendship was never like before. I lost quite a lot of weight and I actually didn´t want back, because I fell in love in Switzerland. To make a long story short, I relapsed, was hospitalised again and the feeling of let K. down was vexatious. However K. does well in recovery and was (is) again a big support for me, but I didn´t (and don´t) manage to say her everything anymore.

Well, but the point of this pointless story is that I want to write about yesterdays meeting with my middleschool friend, which I really like. We don´t meet often, max. 3 times in year, but we simply know about the other one. This friend, A., is already married and she want to show me her and her husband´s new flat. It is cosy flat with dark red painted walls and redish wooden floor. They combined old A.´s grandmother furniture with few IKEA-like things and there are books everywhere (A. and her husbands are translators). I felt so good there, sinking in old sofa and drinking tea. The idea of incoming kids was almost palpable. We talked and talked and I was really enjoying myself. It was combination of mature and childlike talk, this kind of talk when two people knows each other for years and there is more words between and beyond words than in them. We spend nice three hours and on the train home I could feel the "social exhaustion". It was another type of exhaustion than the one I am used to and I quite enjoyed it.