Result of a misspelled Google search for The Sorrows of Young Werther:
Did you mean Sorrowful Weather?
So much time has been spent wishing for friendships that come to nothing. Do you know what I mean? Maybe once every few years or less, you meet someone and think to yourself that this person must be part of your life, you're not certain that you have the room or time but you want to try to find both, you want to offer them a space to snuggly fit into like a jigsaw piece, and you want them, of course, to accept it.
It hardly ever happens this way, as far as I can tell. I'm not sure how to convince such people to be my friend if they weren't already inclined to be, and I feel vaguely discouraged and overwhelmed when trying to think of the possible ways to try to make this happen, how to make myself more important to someone.
In the past few months I've tried to convey something like this, in so many mumbled words, to three different people I like very much. In the first instance the reply was a laugh and an indefinite promise "to have lunch sometime," which turned into a guarantee to be "cordial the next time we see each other, but that's as far as it's going to go." The second instance was strong and almost inpenetrable, an imperative need to meet, which is still up in the air. In the third instance, there was no reply.
Thursday is going to be good for me. A little bit of Long Beach goes a long way.