my so-called friends

I think it’s about time.
For lack of seemingly better things to do on a Saturday night, raining cats and dogs outside and all, I suddenly found myself tinkering with my brother’s laptop and writing. Weird. I know have been trying to put my words in line for the longest time but I just never had the clear chance than now. I don’t know what makes that weird but I just feel like throwing the word around; it’s been a long time since I did.
Listening to my Clubbers’ Guide CDs by Ministry of Sound. I try to imagine I’m dancing in the rain, in a trance-like state in the dark of the night. Kinda helps me imagine myself as a better person throughout everything that has happened, or had not happened, or I wish had not happened. I wish.
I was supposed to meet my college friends over stuff tonight. One part of me was drawing up scenarios on how the conversation would go.
The mean part of me thought of lashing out at them for being so scarce just when my ex (I guess that’s one step forward towards completely moving on, calling her my ex. It does have a nice ring to it, in a sick, sad and yet sordid kind of way, but again, it might just me taking the liberty of throwing words around since I am clearly presented with the opportunity.) and I broke up.
How they were never really there for me like they were for her, and how it never seemed that I was their friend first before my ex got folded into the clique. How they never bothered to ask me anything like how I was doing, or never even thought to tell me that they were never going to be on my side anyway; like for once, they rendered my side moot.
How they could have reprimanded me instead for such a strained relationship, and how they could have told me in hindsight that they had always believed that what we had was doomed from the start and it was only a matter of time that we (she) fall out of it, and we (I) try to pretend like nothing’s happening at all, just because she and I were totally being our own selves around each other, unlike some other (albeit somewhat happier, at most, I guess) couples they had known.
How they would have approved of her throwing me away like that, like it never really mattered to me as much as it did matter to her (it did, and it would kill me to even let anyone tell me otherwise, for they would have not known how much it killed me each moment I struggled to hold on to it by it’s neck while letting the both of us breathe) just because of the simple fact that she had always found them whenever she needed someone to talk to while I found none.
How they instantly turned their backs on me just when they should have known that I would have needed them (I know, she knows, I am high-maintenance that way. I’d always assume you’d have to be psychic to read me or at least be my friend. I know I don’t spill details except maybe at gunpoint but assumptions have always been good in my book, just so you’d actually have the chance to learn that you are wrong.) and how they just got me absolutely wrong that time.
I may seem strong. I may seem unaffectionate. I may seem cold at times. But as with any rock, stone or iceberg, they break and crack too.
But they bailed on me tonight. I’m not sure if it might be right to say this, but I hope I could wish that they just missed the last time they’d ever hear from me again. Now, they would just be known hereafter as my so-called friends.
I would have not been the least excited to see them or at least to see the look on their faces when they realize that they’ve just blown my friendship, but I got to admit, I was excited to see them again. For the sheer pleasure perhaps of seeing them the least bit guilty because I have found a rationale for myself why I should actually forgive them.
I had asked a friend from work last night if she would be willing to meet them if she was in my shoes (She thinks she’s got ugly feet.) and she said yes. I guess she’s just too kind for a certified bitch with a psycho-podiatric disorder.
So much for my so-called friends.

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