Right now, the clock on my laptop reads 1:38 AM. I’m lying in my bed, wrapped in my Saints blankie, listening to Julien Baker sing about God (seriously, check her out, “Go Home” and “Rejoice” can change your life) and thinking about one thing.

I am not a people person. Heck, I might not qualify as a person. I’m not one go out introduce myself to someone new at a party; I won’t make eye contact in a coffee shop and I would rather die than go through small-talk bullshit with an acquaintance. PSA: I don’t care if you’re “fine,” tell me something real, or don’t talk to me.

That aside, I’m thinking about how much I love my friends. I have an inner circle of about 15 people, some of which are new to my life, and two who have been with me since early childhood. These are a varied group of people and I love them all relentlessy. I can say with certainty that this number will change. Morgan and I are possibly moving away from Indiana, people change  – a couple I love very much no longer is in my life – but I know the importance of my friendships won’t change.

I love my friends so much, it kind of blows my mind. We don’t all live in Warsaw; some are in Fort Wayne, California, Crawfordsville, even that gross state of Ohio. I would get in my truck this instance if my friends in Columbus or Toledo needed me. And they’d do the same thing for me ( I hope).

I was not a popular kid in high school (surprise!) or at Grace (I know, blowing your mind). I have never had a plethora of people want to be around me, and I struggled with that for a long time. I’d see the guys in the dorms who always had visitors, who knew everyone in the gym or cafeteria, and honestly, I’d be jealous. You see, I have the ego that matches the size of my distress over my inability to think of a clever metaphor. Oh. Anyways, I have always pined to be the center of attention. That’s probably why I’m a writer, I love seeing my name in print every day. It’s literally the reason I work for a newspaper.

So this desire to be desired has vanished within the last year. Maybe it’s because I have my own house and only interact with three other humans on a regular basis, but I like to think it’s because I’ve fulfilled that need. Technology makes interaction so simple. I can let my people know that the matter, share a video or meme and just be “near” them whenever I want. And I want to a lot.

My friends are losers. My fiancée, Morgatron (dope nickname, right?) is my favorite loser ever. Somehow my sister is popular, but she’ll always be a loser to me. I’m a fucking loser. And I wouldn’t ever change that. If you’re one of my 15, I think you’re magnificent and I love you. I am so happy you exist, you’re too good to be true. If you think you’re maybe included in that number, I love you too. If you’re reading this, I probably love you too. Just don’t expect me to talk to you in public.