True Colors


I have, at this point, pretty much gotten over the loss of all my closest college friends. But it never fails that hearing that Phil Collins song recalls some of my most vulnerable and painful memories. We used to play the board game called True Colors, and I was almost never the one people wanted to be left with on a desert island. I can still remember the feeling, sitting in a bright off-campus apartment kitchen, at a table with five or six friends but feeling completely alone—the solitary eye of the social hurricane. I always thought it was less a case of them not wanting to choose me and more the fact that we were a mixed-gender group of college students with hormones involved, so there was always someone else they wanted more. (That probably was part of it, but I am also aware now of the likelihood that they, like my high school friends before them, really didn’t like me that much, and just hung out with me for . . . some reason.) It’s just a sad memory, not a sweet sad or a tragic sad but the embarrassing kind that makes people uncomfortable. Including me.

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