Blogging started out as a therapy for me. It served as an online journal for my thoughts and emotions (that explains my blog address). For the past month though, I realized that I was actually feeling “happy” and contented that I felt even too selfish to share those thoughts in this blog. But there’s another reason too, I felt “exposed”. I have two blogs and both are not searchable by search engines, so I gave the link only to my closest friends… so whatever criticism I get from my writing and what I write will be acceptable. For the first few entries, I get positive responses from my family and friends telling me they enjoyed the way I tell my stories (by the way, this is not the blog they are reading but the one I am sharing with another friend). That really encouraged me to write more… however, lately I felt like I have to write for them. I have to write something with substance. I have to write something that would please them… and it wasn’t therapeutic anymore. It was stressful (refer to my first entry where I shared about writing for a magazine). So now, I realized the main cause for stress in writing: “If you always think about what other people would think about what you are writing before you even writte it, then you can never begin writing”!
So right now, I am typing away without editing myself.
This is how it all started. This is how it should be! It’s supposed to be a cathartic process…
And so, I’ll tell you now why I feel like writing now…
I am sharing a room with a college friend. During college years, she changed universities but we have always been in touch with each other. I always considered her “my most loyal friend” (itt’s such an honor for her coming from me! I have too many circles and hundred of friends but she got that title. Ahem). More than ten years later, we were still friends and she lived in the neighborhood. My other friends think it’s great that I have a close friend in the neighborhood. When I want to eat out, I just send her a message. She was always there for me. When I need her, she will give time to help me.
But that all changed…
During the last days of my most hectic semester in grad school, I expected my friend as someone I can rely on. And I thought she would never change. Until one day, because it was such a stressful moment, I was in a hurry to finish something and needed to use her laptop but I never got her reply. I was so stressed and I said some insensitive things to her in a text message. Her reply changed everything…
I realized I created in my mind an image of her as my most loyal friend and I assumed that it should stay that way. When I realized she changed, some invisible thread tying as together suddenly snapped.
I realized that I was so full of myself. Without admitting it, I actually expected everything and everybody around me to do my bidding. I don’t manipulate people, I just expect them to act the way I imagine they should respond.
I realized I was selfish, naive, and shallow.
Those were not nice thoughts… but they sure were enlightening. However, the way I handled things I am not sure if most people will consider a mature way or actually an escapist’s strategy… but I don’t want to go in detail now.
These days, my friend has been transformed to merely a roommate… and it wasn’t because I made her that way. It was simply because that’s how I felt our relationship is now.
After that incident, I have noticed that she never shares things and thoughts she used to share with me. She will go to her other friends. We only have good times in the house when she was doing well and happy with her long-distance boyfriend.
I am not being self-righteous but as her roommate, no matter how down I am, as long as my issue is something external from our friendship, I would always treat her the same. I will be my bubbly and talkative self. Until…
One day, I saw her making faces because I was talking a lot and it seemed that she didn’t want to listen. I also notice that I became a mere shadow or a ghost in the house… whenever she arrives or leaves the apartment, she never acknowledges my presence. I always considered it a simple courtesy to tell someone you’re leaving the house or if you just arrived to say a simple “hi”. So I don’t understand… it’s either she never learned proper manners, or she never thought of me as someone who deserved it.
So there, today my mood is very sour. I wanted to get out, to escape. I want to get away from her. I want my own apartment all to myself…
But reality is really mean… rent is really expensive… I don’t have my own internet connection, I use hers… any other place from where I am staying now is considered inconvenient to commute from and to work. Hahaha!
I hope I can sort out all these emotions. I hope I can call my roommate my friend again soon.
I hope I can afford my own place.