I opened this journal to people who I believed would just respect my opinion.  And just one moment, that’s no longer the case.

This is where I vent, because as someone who’s not easily upset, when I get mad, I’m really mad.  And I vent to others because when I am mad, I am irrational.  And in spite of the lack of audience here, I know somehow that I am safe, that here I can have an opinion, even if at that moment, it’s wrong.   

I let you in because I thought you’d just let me vent.  If you didn’t read that text, which was not intended for you anyway, would you have reacted like this?  Didn’t you think that the main reason why I wasn’t speaking to you is because I am too angry to even make sense?  And I didn’t ask you to bring whatever it is that you brought; we called it off already, didn’t we?  We told you not to bother.  But you did it anyway.  And I thought it was because you wanted to.  But you so conveniently threw it in my face.

I admit that I hurt you with what I said, and I’m sorry for hurting you, but this is my space.  This is where I say what’s on my mind and not have to censor anything for anyone’s pleasure.  This is where I am most comfortable in speaking my mind because here, I don’t have to adhere to someone else’s rules of conduct.  I can be obscene, rude and irrational and look back and just recap everything else.  This is where I make my mistakes and correct them, but you so conveniently did that for me.

I took the weekend off to contemplate, which again explains why I’m not talking.  I had M to tell me that I was petty, and I reflected on that.  But what you didn’t know is how difficult this weekend was for me.  You read my sentiments and you chose to disregard them to air your own.  And I get that.  I get that you have to say something because you were offended.  I get that.  But you should have told it to my face.  Because this is my space.  This is my venting room.  This is mine.  This is the only place where I don’t have to defend myself for having an opinion.

And I was offended, not for the past but for the pettiness of the Friday thing.  And I was ready to admit that.  But when you post comments dated February 1 after reading my conflicts from the 30th and the 31st… isn’t that called apathy?  Isn’t that a gross lack of consideration?  You said I should give you credit.  Didn’t you give me credit?  Or did you just immediately think I am that shallow?  Didn’t you think that when people are mad, all they remember are bad  things?  Didn’t you think that?  Or were you just thinking of yourself?

This is my space.  I didn’t even talk to you, I didn’t even invade you because I know somewhere in my head I was wrong at one point.  I didn’t talk to you because I wasn’t making sense, and you didn’t even give me the room to actually MAKE sense.  Why?  Did I do that to your Wall?  Did I text you profanities?  Did I send you a Private Message defiling you?  I was just  here, in my space, talking.  It was just me and my space, and you just went in and told me off.

I am tired.  You have no idea how draining this weekend is and worse, you didn’t even bother to consider that in spite reading about it.  Why?  Was I that apathetic to your whims?  Was I that insensitive to your bad days?  Was I that bad of a friend?

You are not the vessel of my frustrations.  You will never be the vessel of my frustrations.  But this blog is.  "You cannot get offended without your permission" does not work the same as "You cannot feel inferior without your permission".  And if that’s the case, why doesn’t that rule also apply to you?

And I’m tired.  Of fighting.  You’re generally a good friend, but I wish you would be more careful with your words.  Or actions.  Because what appears as fair to you doesn’t always appear fair to some, and those who don’t get it are not obliged to apologize for misinterpreting it.  You’re a really good friend, but you have to be more conscious of how you come off, the same way you guys tell me to tone down the taray.  

I’m tired.  All I did this weekend was defend myself for being angry for legitimate reasons.  And I’m just tired.  Because it seems like I can’t get mad.  It appeared that I am not allowed to be upset, to be offended.  Is this the stipulation that comes from being a bitch?  Coz I am admittedly one.  Does that automatically exempt me for feeling offended, for feeling insulted?  

Oh and by the way, everyone tells me I am biased.  M tells me I’m biased to P, P tells me I’m biased to you, you tell me I’m biased to M.  If not one can really determine which I favor the most, doesn’t that translate to me treating everyone the same?   Think about it.

Do you get that?  Do you understand now?  Or do I owe you something of an apology again?

Sobrang sama lang talaga ng loob ko. Kasi alam ko I played my part well. When he asked for advice, I gave it. When he asked for support, I was there. When he needed the space, I backed off. I played my part well, Jeff. You know I did. I played it well and with a happy heart. Feeling ko pa, pag napag-usapan to, ako pa yung iiwan. Ako pa yung iiwanan niya. Wala lang. Gusto ko lang may iba pang tao apart from myself na nakaalam na talagang lahat ginawa ko. Gusto ko lang na may iba pang nakakaalam na wala akong hindi binigay. Talagang ginawa ko lahat, alam mo yun. Kahit matagal na tayong di nagkikita o nagkakausap, alam mo binigay ko lahat. Ang sakit sakit lang na sinisisi niya ako sa bagay na to.

Sana stressed lang siya. Sana pag nagkita kami, mas open minded na siya. Pero alam ko I can’t hope that much. We both know hindi siya optimistic mag-isip. And we both know kapag galit siya, wala siyang ibang alam. Sana lang no, alam niya na mahal niya ako. Sana lang talaga. Coz it would really suck kung pati yun kakalimutan niya.

 Had a bad day yesterday, but it’s mostly good though.  

I don’t understand how I can be more insulted.  You didn’t abide by the rules of the bet, but you never did anything I asked you to.  The bet says you’re supposed to do what we ask, but you never did.  And you even judged me for asking you to do those things.

First, you laughed in my face at the thought of me getting a higher score than you.  Then you mock my micro- and macroeconomics skills.  Then you judge me for making requests (which were part of the stipulation).  Then you would rather cross the footbridge at twelve noon and get desserts, than walk to the water cooler to get water. 

Ang labo mo, pre.

I know I’m not as smart as you, but that doesn’t mean I’m dense.