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Category: Friends

Since it’s Thanksgiving

Since it’s Thanksgiving

Even though I haven’t been feeling grateful for anything lately, I want to change that if only for a day. And what better day than Thanksgiving?

Here’s what I’m truly thankful for:

  1. Lolo made it out of the hospital after several weeks’ confinement.
  2. Related to #1: Though it’s pretty heavy on the pocket, I still manage to pay off my debts for his hospitalization. I didn’t need to resort to extreme measures, and I will always be grateful for that.
  3. Bunbun, my wonderful boyfriend who is amazingly patient and understanding when I’m being a selfish brat. He is there for me through all my highs and lows.
  4. The Best Friend, who just “gets” me. There’s not a lot of people who can do that. My inadequacies aren’t quite so glaring through his eyes.
  5. Bru, one of my closest friends from college, who indulges my pointless rants and is forever supportive of me. She has grown into a strong woman and I couldn’t be happier for her.
  6. My best friend from work, who has truly challenged the way I see myself and others. His trust and love mean more to me than words can express.
  7. The Squad from work. Incredible fun to be had when we’re all together. And they didn’t think any less of me when I was devastated about Phoebe passing away.
  8. Team 2PM, who make me look forward to lunch because I know we’re going to go nuts along Ayala Avenue, laughing about disgusting things at the top of our lungs. #shameless
This has not been the best year for me (to be honest, I absolutely despised 2015) but at least I didn’t have to go through it by myself.
There’s no break-up letter for friends

There’s no break-up letter for friends

Friends drift away. I should know. I’ve been on both ends of that: I’ve had friends who slipped away, and I’ve disconnected from a lot of friendships as well.

For instance, in high school, I had a best friend who I considered my sister.

We were inseparable—I was with her every day and constantly sleeping over at her place. One’s problem was also the other’s. But when we were in college, we had a fight, and I drifted away. Although we struggle to stay in touch now, it has never been the same. It sounds stupid that that one fight ended our years of friendship, but I knew then that I had to let the friendship have its end.

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Lessons learned

Lessons learned

This has been an incredibly painful month for me. It didn’t help that I turned 22 and I still feel like my shit isn’t sorted. My only comfort is that at least I’m still learning, which means (hopefully) I haven’t given up yet.
So, here are a few things I’ve learned recently:

Growing up means doing things you don’t want to, because you have to.

For me, that means going to work and doing my laundry even on days when all I feel capable of doing is curling in a ball and crying. Growing up means biting the bullet and moving back in with my mom, even if it’s the last thing I want to do, because I simply can’t pay my rent anymore. That shit stings, but I’m a big girl. I’m an adult (supposedly). I have to be okay with the difficult choices I make.
And speaking of difficult choices…

Love doesn’t conquer all.

“Baby, sometimes love just ain’t enough,” so goes that song. Love is a beautiful, majestic thing, but it’s not the only thing. In love, as with everything else, there comes a time when you have to make a difficult choice. And as I’ve said before, doing the right thing isn’t always easy. You can love each other very much, but there will always be external factors that come into play.
And please don’t tell me, “If you love each other enough, you’ll find a way to make it work.” Haven’t we all outgrown that trite, naïve advice? Sometimes, there’s no other way than to let go.

Friends aren’t always there for you.

Being single can be awesome, but it can also get pretty lonely. When I was in college, I didn’t mind much because I had my lovely friends who I saw every day. Now that we are all working, though, we hardly ever meet. I can’t go running off to Tapsi to drunk-cry on their shoulders, because we all have our own separate lives and schedules now.
It’s not that they don’t want to be there for me. I know they do. But I can’t insist on taking their time just so I could feel a little less lonely for a night. That would be asking too much, and I never ask for more than what others could give.
Even The Best Friend has got a job now. He spends his time either working or resting. As much as I want him here right now, I repeat, I never ask for more than what others could give. I swear, these are the times that I wish I had a more emotionally available best friend.

These lessons are coming at me so hard and fast that I feel overwhelmed by it all. But if this is growing up, then please send me the hell back to my childhood.
A conversation between Allison and Claire

A conversation between Allison and Claire

“Which The Breakfast Club character are you?” I asked. It was meant to be a light question, one that was meant to keep the mood easy. After all, it had been a tough week for us both, and all we wanted was to relax and knock back some beers under the night sky.
“I’m Allison, of course,” I droned on, lighting a cigarette. “I always was a freak.”
You scoffed and leaned back into the wicker chair. “You’re really not. The weirdest thing about you is how you think you’re a loser.”

“How am I not?” I demanded, gesticulating wildly towards myself. “Look at me. I’m an overweight, socially-awkward loser with bad skin and unfashionable clothes. Everyone says I’m weird. Hell, even when they don’t say it, I can feel them thinking it.” It used to hurt to think of myself in such awful terms, but I’m slowly embracing the fact. I pressed on, “Plus, in high school, I was always that girl, the one everyone thought was a bit off. I’m goddamned Allison, and that’s the end of it.”

“Fine, okay! Jesus.” You gave a short laugh, sipping from your glass. “I’d have to say, I’m Allison, too.”

“The fuck you are!” I cried. My head was getting foggy, and I wanted to scream out into the stars that you, dear sir, were far too lovely to be Allison.
“What? I’m Allison. I’m as weird as you! That’s probably why we’re friends! Unless—” Your eyes widened. “Shit, I’m Claire.”
My laughter was a mix of amusement and disdain. “God, you’re right! You’re Claire! I mean, look at you!” I jabbed my cigarette at the air. “Well-off family, lots of friends, expensive clothes, nice things, basically everything you could ask for—and still unhappy! God!”
After another round of laughter, you adopted a more somber look. “Seriously, though. It’s pretty sad that no matter how lucky Claire—and I,” you hastily added, seeing my death stare, “No matter how lucky Claire and I are, we’re still miserable with our completely empty lives.” Reaching over, you plucked the cigarette from my fingers and crushed it on the table, your brows furrowed in thought.
I sighed deeply and brushed some ash from your hair. We’ve been through this conversation many times before, and never did it end up neatly. A few minutes passed, both of us looking out at the city lights, lost in thoughts never to reach our lips. Finally, I broke the silence.
“Do you think we’d still be friends on Monday?” I teased, referencing one of my favorite lines from the movie.
Your answer sounded hesitant and a little sad. “I don’t think so.”
“Typical Claire,” I said, and we started laughing again.
I refilled my glass and drank as quickly as I could. I wanted the truth, and I got it. The truth was, we never could tell how The Breakfast Club ended. For all we know, Allison and Claire passed each other in the halls many times, and never acknowledged each other again. After all, despite all their similarities, they were far too different, from separate cliques, lives, and worlds.
How many times have we talked about this? For that matter, how many times have we watched The Breakfast Club? We know how it goes: our favorite fivesome will never have that moment of openness, ever again. They will ignore each other in the hallways, and laugh at each other’s backs. They go back to being strangers.
But it wasn’t what either of us wants to hear. The best we could do is hope that Monday would never come.