Ruth is a full-time writer. Foodie. Happy camper. Wanders a lot. Used to have the worst taste in men. A reformed swipe-a-holic. Reviving her blog after its death.
Friday, February 14, 2003
I do not have a list of criteria for my friends.
If they like the same things as I do, I consider it a blessing.
I do not have a problem if they lead a life completely different from mine. Familiarity = contempt. Diversity = Spice and Fun.
I do not judge them based on the books they read. But it’s way, way, way cool when I lend/give/recommend a title that they’ll love.
I believe that the Corinthians’ definition of love not being jealous is crap. I’m jealous when my friends find new friends, but I will not keep them from having one.
I have betrayed a couple or so of them over the years, but I try, God knows how much, to make up for those mistakes.
My friends reflect me. So think it’s not too much to ask that they reciprocate the RESPECT, love, and loyalty I have for them.
***
To the annoying person,
I am so tired of your whining and mood swings. If you have reasons to complain, don’t you think that I have them too?
You tell me that you’ve been ignored lately. But did you ever ask why? Did you even considered that maybe, you asked for it? Whenever I ask you to spill some details of your life, you would always say, “secret”. You don’t volunteer information, so how am I to know when you need a shoulder to cry on? I’m only human, am not a seer.
Word of advice, when you feel left out, do something about it. Believe me, I know the feeling. I felt them more than once. But I do not sulk in a corner blaming it to other people. Instead, I swing into action. I MAKE MY PRESENCE KNOWN.
I depend on other people, but I do not expect that they revolve their lives around me. When I’m late for an appointment, I don’t expect my friends to stop whatever they’re doing to wait for me, especially when it’s something as important as enrollment.
I don’t tolerate tantrums, not even from my favorite baby cousin. So don’t think you’re an exception and special. If you have a problem, speak up. Stop being childish. It’s a waste of effort and energy.
Stop making lame excuses. I see through them. It’s weird because I still remember the time when you’re phone was dead to my queries but you could reply to certain people.
If I’ve hurt you, I’m sorry. But you’ve hurt me a couple of times too. I remembered how you agree to my indignations, and how you sympathize with my plight, but the minute we’re out of our lunch table, you become a part of my suffering. I was expecting that you would at least say something remotely similar to what we talked about, but nothing. Didn’t you feel my pain then?
All you saw was how me and other people ganged up on you. But did you see how they stepped on me? Did you even notice how I endured all the insults? Of course not, I doubt if you even have the slightest idea.
You told me I was precious. But the way you burn bridges, the way you do your martyr act, the way you add to your self-inflicted wounds, I don’t feel like a precious to you. I feel like I was just a means, whose use had just ran out.
I know nothing about you because you don’t want me to know anything about you. Grow up! Is this the attention you wanted? Congratulations! You now have mine.
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