Tag Archives: friendship

Hell is Other People

In the depth of that night, while the sun was sleeping, she was like the moon; part of her was shining and part of her was in terrible sorrow. It is hard to smile when half you is dying. There were noises in the quite night.  The thoughts that people let go before they sleep hung in chaos in the air.  The weights of these thoughts were weighing her down.

Ana worships Sartre and she can’t decide whether his genius has made or broke her life. At 23 she is familiar to the death that someone must constantly live in order to experience life; the emotions, the words, the feelings, the time and circumstances that pass only once.  The people who must make the society, they break it instead.

The whole world is a circle, revolving and whirling.  She is trapped inside, nauseous and wanting to get out.  Sometimes when the world slows down she would watch as it turns, witnessing and grieving.  She watches the world and the world never did the same.

She remembered her friends and how they all smile in every photo of them that were etched in her memory. Her friends who’s been with her through all the happy moments, were never there when she was crying in front of a blank word document. Loneliness is a room, closed and locked.  Her friends did not try to barge in. Nobody kicked the door except her. She always has to save herself when she’s in need. And she saves her friends too, when they’re in need.

“Please come with us, it is happier when you’re around.”

How selfish is that remark?

They’re only happy when she’s around because they have someone to laugh about. Her social skills may be awkward but she’s real. She never wanted to hurt people.  Words for her are precious. She won’t make a person feel bad with something that makes her feel good.  Her friends needed to laugh, they laughed at her, but she never laughed along with them.

She needed to runaway and search for a place inside her soul. That place where she could sit silently and be herself;  a place where happiness can’t be found inside a bottle, a place where men does not exist to dominate her feelings. Her friends had poured her with too much of their selves and all of them were stored inside her. She’s a glass full of other people’s frustration, insecurities, disappointments and pain.

Ana packed the dvds, she watched those films till some of the scenes happened in her life; the cds, she listened to them till half of her brain became a portable storage of hundred of those songs;  the band shirts, she wore them to every concert that robbed her. She packed the memories placed it inside a box and burned them. The fire blazed as if it was laughing and mocking her for those times she gave herself to others. For a moment she wanted to jump into the fire. But no, the fire is other people; they burn your true self reducing you to worthless ashes of what has been their own invented puppet.

To hell with them.

A Totally Non General Definition of A True Friend

I dont know what’s with this restroom that makes me write things anyway I’ll attempt to conceive a subjective but somewhat credible definition of a true friend, lets just pretend that this is not about my friends.

A true friend can hear not just your feelings beyond your words but also your silence.

A true friend agrees that you’re fat when you actually isnt. And secretly researches recipes and prepares organic meals for your proper diet. After a week they’ll agree that you are actually as thin as a bulimic.

A true friend occasionally acts like your mom, because they consider you family, and families hate to see each other hurt.

A true friend runs to you not only if they ran out of cash but also if you ran out of cash.

A true friend shares cans of beers not for the alcohol trip but for the company and conversations.

A true friend not just give you a book because you like it but because they want to see your face light up.

A true friend tells you when to hope and when to let go.

A true friend endearingly calls you bitch because they know you’re not.

A true friend let themselves be dragged to District 9. And cry along with you even though it sort of felt lame to sob to a movie about aliens.

A true friend patiently listens to your ramblings about how you like Twilight until you feel guilty of talking them into the topic. They never trash Twilight in your face because they respect your movie preferences.

A true friend signs up on Buzznet to read your blogs.

A true friend never says “I told you so.”

And mostly a true friend considers a true friends point when they tell you something.

There are a lot of things that makes a friend true, its like that thousand list of why you love NBA.

As you walk on, you’ll know who’s true and who’s worth walking with, the one who wont cross the street until you hold her hand.

PS: I’m fully aware of the grammar lapses, ignore it, I have literary liscense.

One Night; One Friend; One Can

Depression is a disease that would cripple you. It will glue you to your lonely bed. And thoughts would defeat you and you’ll end up sobbing in solitude. If you won’t fight it, it will surely kill you.

What else could wash depression away than a can of beer, a good conversation with an equally (or maybe less but she’s a good friend enough to be empathetic) depressed friend. One night of pouring beers and pouring miseries out. It is comforting when your thoughts and emotions turn into words and someone was there to react to it. Someone is there not to tell you that you’re stupid but someone understanding enough to tell you that following your heart may not be right but as long as it makes you happy, it’s alright. But when you say that you’ve had enough, she’ll support you all the way. Its always great to have a friend that would jump along a cliff with you. But its always greater to have a friend that could share a can or more of beer with you.

So what exactly am I depressed about? This is the first time I’m going to spill it. And its not because of the beer but because when you’re full you have to let some out. So I was in a relationship for six months now. It is not remotely dead yet but I’ve been mourning the whole life of our so called relationship. I met this guy in a bar and its not completely love at first site, it might just be because he came in the right time. The time when I was starving for immediate love subject. I was so uninspired and needs to forget. So in short, as in really short, like a day, I entered a relationship with a guy I met within twenty four hours. It was way more than being stupid. And besides I wasn’t ready. So just like all relationships that started in haste it came crumbling faster than a speeding bullet. It struck me right into the chest and left me blooded and in extreme pain. After the hurting subsided I realized I wasn’t in love with the person, I was in love with the idea of love. And now I still couldn’t find the courage to end it, though by relationship and its true essence, it has already ended a long time ago, I just turned my eyes blind to it.

I know my friend is going through the same thing. We don’t have to talk about it openly but we know we understand its other. One thing that always ends up hurting us is how ideally romantic we are. I can pretty much say that were the keeper kind but we always end being abandoned, abused and taken for granted. We deserve the best and if there’s there’s a better word than best in the dictionary, we probably deserve it too.

I almost emptied the can, and my thoughts too. That one friend is not just the friend sitting here beside me but also the friend who is reading this.