Don't fucking leave home without it.
When I was in first grade, we were asked to write a letter to our best friend.
I wrote this poem for a classmate whom I really liked, but guess what. A dozen other classmates wrote about her.
And I. I received nothing. Nobody wrote anything for me.
Growing up, I didn't have a best friend. But that didn't mean I never came close to having a couple of ones.
Somewhere between grade school and college, though, our differences in taste in boys and religious beliefs drove us apart. It's kinda sad, when before, we swapped gossip as quickly as we traded crushes; we tried smoking, and smoking up, and drinking, yeah, drinking till we did something we regretted later on, but back then, it was perfectly okay because we had each other to bawl on and rant on, no matter what happened. Of course, come graduation, all the corny cliche's we promised each other never amounted to anything. It just kind of bothers me sometimes, chancing upon their Friendster profiles from and seeing their pictures, smiling and posing happily, finding out that they stuck together and kept in touch all those years and didn't even think about contacting me.
==`*
As of last week, I've been leaving the house at 10 am, to do part-time work in a women's NGO somewhere in Quezon Ave.
And I commute. I commute alone.
And I like it.
It gives me the opportunity to think and reflect and rationalize away as much as I want to, without being disturbed. Well, at least until I reach my stop.
Lately, because it's been raining like fucking hell, I've had the worst time-- going to and home from work.
And yesterday, walking gingerly across the intersection, braving the ever-insistent drizzle, convinced that one of these days I'd surely get killed by some drunk arrogant driver who cannot respect the fucking pedestrian lane,
it hit me:
That it's a fucking pity indeed, that nowadays, the closest thing I have to a best friend
is a freaking umbrella.
mood: cold, and sorry.
posted by the girl across the room @ 1:18 AM
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