entropy
I never thought I'd find such a concise explanation for why I have so few friends. Too bad the author is dead.

"You know how people long to be eternal. But they die with every day that passes. When you meet them, they're not what you met last. In any given hour, they kill some part of themselves. They change, they deny, they contradict- and they call it growth. At the end there's nothing left, nothing unreversed or unbetrayed; as if there had never been any entity, only a succession of adjectives fading in and out on an unformed mass. How do they expect a permanence which they have never held for a single moment?"

I befriend people who show some kind of genuine honesty and self value. It's a rare color that shines bright and fades easily. I've seen it fade many times.

Here I've found someone who actually undersands why I feel an agony when I see a carefully chosen friend kill everything about them I value. It's worse than death, for at least in death I may meet them again in an afterlife. No, this is absolute death. Their soul has collapsed into a maleable mass of goo- unrecognizeable and unknowable. Self betrayal is the purest form of suicide.