Sunday, September 19, 2004

Familiarity Breeds Contempt

The entry R.I.P.: Rot in Piss is simply a testimonial and an elegy to a friend who died out with the flame of her home-made candles. The poem as to what our concerned friends say as an overreaction on my part was in fact an exhalation of pent-up emotions I've kept for a long time. People need to breathe and air out the frustrations, embarrassment and pain afflicted by friends such that they don't suffocate in stench. And as to what provoked me in writing the said entry, let me say this in my most collected manner, I was totally pissed off.

Piss. What a wonderful word for such an awful bitch. She really has her funny way of reminding herself to me and I hope she rots in piss for making me feel miserable. And she'll surely rot in piss for peeing in a jar of buko juice, an unsuspecting manang left in a classroom. How was that for an introduction for a UP cum laude who should have known better about respect for a person who was trying to earn money?

Don't curse her yet. She was still my friend and a friend should be more forgiving. I knew her as a tough vixen that single-handedly maneuvered herself out of her tribulations. Embittered, her perception of life was adumbrated with despair and her tongue took a turn for the worse, calling all men as dogs just like her family of mongrels (that's what she's saying). Just because I didn't give in to her request, which sounded more like an order, to arrange a grand procession for her with an entourage of tall and ignorant servants(that would have included my self), she started to badmouth and call me names behind my back. She even went as far as swearing she'd kill if she has the chance. What did I do?

I pity you. We could have been good friends but you kept on pushing me away; I hope you will soon come to your senses and realize that it wasn't anybody's fault; I was there for you but you failed to see me behind those tears....

I can't go on with this entry for it only refreshes the wounds. And blood just freaks me out. Fortunately, I have Britney to keep me company. Still, I must go to my crypt and cry.

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