Foster Home from Friendless Folks

by: Marjorie Dalugdugan

Remember the last time you lost someone and the pain of them passing was so big that at that moment you temporarily forgot how to breathe? And then days passed, then months, then years and then one morning you wake up and you can’t even remember how he or she looks like unless you dig up an old photograph of them. Well, that’s in death. When someone dies, the memory we have of them dies with them.

The same thing I pray happens to me. It’s not that I recently lost someone, in a manner of speaking. No one close to me died. However, I decided we stop being friends before everything turns into complete and utter disaster and I end up yelling and cussing at her and I cause her more pain that she thinks she already has. It’s funny isn’t it how we meet people, become friends and walk away from that whole relationship and those we met fade into oblivion like they moved on into a better place but really didn’t.

As I am writing this, my head is filled with all kinds of thoughts. I’m a bag of emotions right now. I feel upset, enraged, disgusted. And then there’s this other side of me that wants to run out the door, take a bus home and just quit everything I have in the university. I want some form of security. Someone to tell me that everything will be okay. Or that this too shall pass. Or that bad company is not worth keeping therefore I made the right decision.

But who am I kidding! She was my best friend. Or at least she was in my eyes. I liked her company. A lot. We were two peas in a pod. Or at least I thought we were. As of now, I don’t know what we were. It was like I was in this whole thing and I was the only one who appreciated the company. I sound like someone who got betrayed by a boyfriend or a girlfriend. I could even sound like a person who was about to get married but got left at the altar. But no, my biggest dilemma is giving up on a person who gave up on me.

All throughout my life, I collected friends because I thought that collecting lovers was a bit too much and too slutty for a kid my age. I thought that friends were safe because everything you do would be for a higher form of benefit, like calling them to bail you out of jail or pick you up from a bar when you’re too drunk to walk. Sure lovers would do that, but being with friends would be different because they’re friends! You would never have to break up with them if you accidentally puke on them, those are part of the contract of friendship. But no!!!!!!!!!!!!!11!1!! For some undisclosed reason my best friend hates me! And since I don’t want her to hate me more and more by keeping me company, I broke up our friendship!

Now, I shall have to wait for the awkward phase of this misfortune to blow over. This is the part where I wait for snide comments on how big of a biatch I was to her, how suckish of a friend I acted, how I never did my part, how I was the epitome of evil.

The lesson here I figured was that I was not allowed to be myself while she was left to be the person she was. I was mean because I said what I thought and what everyone else was thinking about her. The lesson here is keeping the truth from your friends because they are swimmingly happy with all the lies that people tell them. Let society feed your friends with the cherries and sparkles of life while you stand and watch in the bylines and watch them destroy themselves with all that they are fed with. In order for you to keep your friends, let them run blind into a wall and tell them that that was pretty rad how they managed to wreck themselves while you do nothing about it other than praise them for the crap they’ve done. Let them think that you care about them so much that you’ll agree with every single stupid decision they make.