The Ramblings of a Seventeen-Year-Old Girl: Facebook Friends (4)
This series focuses on the real-life stories of everybody. A rambling that allows one to realize. The series that allows people to get a breather, and to breathe. Sometimes you just have to let it all out, don't you think?
Volume Four: Facebook Friends
A second ago, I was crying.
I cried because I realized that I, Tracy, have a superpower.
And no, it isn't the ability to fly, to read minds, or to be invisible.
It's the extraordinary ability of being able to lose a beloved 'best' friend in seven days.
I was exaggerating when I said seven days. I mean, even I can keep a friend for some months. 1 year, to be exact.
A few minutes ago, I was scrolling down my Facebook page when suddenly, a girl named Isabelle changed her profile picture. Isabelle was a friend. She was my best friend.
WAS...
The year before I moved to Calgary, we were tight. At least, I thought we were. We became acquaintances in our first year of high school, and became close friends in our second year. Lots of laughs were shared, lots of secrets were revealed, lots of sadness were comforted, and lots of fun times were achieved.
But then I moved.
On the second semester of my third year in high school, I moved to Calgary where I continued school. Honestly, I thought we would keep in touch - that she would text me to see how I'm doing, or to call me to see if I were alive.
She did none of that.
I could remember the first two months after I moved. I felt so left out from everybody else at school who already created their own circles. Thankfully, there were those who took pity on me and took me.
But thinking back... it was sad.
I couldn't remember her texting me first. I remember saying 'hello' everyday, hoping she would reply to see if I've adjusted. I thought I'd have someone to comfort me.
I felt so betrayed.
It's true that we had two more people in our 'tight' group, but damn it! She was supposed to be my best friend! You could just imagine how much I had to pretend that everything was fine, the times where I have to be strong in front of a school full of strangers... it felt like shit.
But enough about that. Eventually, I made a lot of friends in my school, and I was deemed approachable to everybody, so my name went to lights and high school didn't end to waste. But there are still lingering feelings inside, you know.
Back to my story.
When I saw her new profile picture, I realized that her looks haven't changed all that much. When I looked at it, I was waiting for my guts to feel sour, or for tears to start dropping for missing her-
Instead I felt nothing.
If you've read my other entries, you'd know that my heart has literally went numb when it comes to any sort of relationships... and I think she's one of the main reasons.
I guess I don't want to hurt anyone anymore - not myself, nor anybody else.
To give your trust to someone, to allow them in your life, and then the next day pretend that you're nothing... it doesn't hurt as times goes by... it doesn't hurt anymore as times goes by, but it doesn't mean you forget it.
I liked the picture. For some magical, unknown reason - I pressed 'like.'
And the next minute, she posted in my wall.
"Hello."
I stared at it for a minute. And then another. And then another.
Ten minutes passed.
I replied.
"Hi."
It must be because of the difference in time zones that prompted her to ask. "So you're still awake?"
I looked at it. I didn't know what to say. So quickly, to escape this conversation, I replied.
"I have work. Goodnight, Sis (:"
(We used to call each other 'sis' before.)
This is where I hit my breaking point - when she replied back. It was a simple reply, really.
"Okay. Goodnight, sis!"
I read our short-lived conversation once. Then twice. And then three times.
Then I realized - It was the first time in two years she became interested in anything about me. The first time she acted like an acquaintance, like a friend.
And then I started crying. I cried because it was the closure I needed - the most anticipated closure my stoic heart could ever desire. It was the truth I needed to face.
To each other, we've become strangers.
Facebook friends.
Friends who you have in your profile but not give much of a damn about. If they have a nice picture, you like it. You say a simple hi, a simple goodbye. Nothing more - nothing less.
I know that a lot of you have faced similar difficulties. Moving to another place meant distance - and that meant adjusting.
I knew how persistent I was when I texted her - to hopefully get some comfort from this strange new place, but unfortunately I was one of those who never got it.
But hey, that doesn't mean that things will be the same for you. The end of our friendship was painful, excruciating... sad. But it allowed me to be strong, to be hopeful for the new world I'm in, and I think I've adjusted well.
Now, this strange place has become my home. I've met people who loves me, and my life is nothing more than peaceful and satisfying.
I guess the end of one friendship meant the beginning of many other, great relationships. So don't be sour at such things. It will pass - and it will be better. Why?
Because it will be worth it.
After all, when I finally communicated with Isabelle after a long time, I didn't have any sour feelings. The crying was from the happiness of the long-awaited closure, and nothing else.
Like they say, friends come and go. But that doesn't mean you forget them. You learn from them, and then you get better friends. Ones who wouldn't trade you for anything else.
And guess what?
I think I've found them.
*******************************************************************************
The Ramblings of a Seventeen-Year-Old Girl: Love
Re: The Ramblings of a Seventeen-Year-Old Girl: Love
The Ramblings of a Seventeen-Year-Old Girl: Reality Check (5)
This series focuses on the real-life stories of everybody. A rambling that allows one to realize. The series that allows people to get a breather, and to breathe. Sometimes you just have to let it all out, don't you think?
Volume Five: Reality Check
"I hate my parents."
"Why don’t they just leave me alone?"
"I’m old enough to make decisions for myself. I’m not a baby."
"Would it kill them to let me go in this party?"
"They’re so stupid."
"I wish they’d just disappear."
*********************************************************************
Hi, today, I had a fight with my parents. It was a very small argument, really. Nothing special. But let’s face it - we’re teenagers. And as these pheromone-al, emotional hunk of meat - our emotions will tend to be more active, our brains a little less.
For ten minutes, I imagined a world where they didn’t exist.
I saw a beautiful apartment. Seven floors, a pool in the back - maybe a hot tub, if I’m not stingy with myself. Nah, of course not.
Sharing is caring, after all.
Then I see money - lots of it. Sitting on top of a beautiful leather sofa. Just piles of it can be seen towering on each other, waiting to be spent on.
But on what?
I’ve already bought everything money could possibly buy - a house, expensive clothes, beautiful cars, good food, and shiny jewelry. Hell, I even bought my so-called ‘friends’ with money.
But why do I feel that something’s missing?
Oh.
A warm home.
But more importantly, the two important figures that makes such homes - ‘warm.’
A woman called ‘mom’ who tries to listen to all your petty problems while she quietly thinks about what food to prepare for tomorrow, or the money to pay for that food. The same one who tries her best to borrow cash from her coworkers to get that PS3 games you wanted so badly, you’d throw a tantrum over it. The very same one who tries to put you to school in hopes of reaching your dreams - an opportunity she was never able to have when she was a child. And there you are, skipping every single day of it.
And then you have this one called, 'dad.'
As the man of the family, he goes off early to work. He works hard there, but you don’t know that. Why not? Because whenever you see him, he is either sleeping in the couch or spending the night by himself with a beer in his hand. You call him 'alcoholic', 'useless', 'waste'.
But do you ever try to ask why? Why he looks so damn tired all the time? Because at work, he tries so hard to speak English. Yes, English.
You see, you came to America at such an early age - you quickly grabbed the language, you’ve mastered the ways, and you know how things are done.
But your dad? He came here when he was forty-three. After going around the world as a foreign worker, he decided it was time to come get his family no matter how expensive, as long as you can all be together. At work, he feels bad inside because the language barrier is just too hard for him. He can speak for a short time, but he knows - oh, he knows, that he can’t keep up with the conversation. It sounds petty, doesn’t it? But do you realize how hard it is - wanting to have a simple conversation with someone, but not being able to not because you don’t want to - but because you don’t know how to?
And who does he want to ask for help? Is it his wife - whose knowledge in English is similar to his? Or maybe his son - who just might be the right one? Of course, it would be his son! But why would this little bastard, who prefers to be never seen with his parents outside the house, help him?
And then to suddenly hear words such as, "Why are you guys so stupid?"
Who would bear?
As you’ve noticed by now, I’m dedicating this chapter to the immigrant families who immigrated in search for a better life. Sometimes, as children we forget that the lives we have now - we owe to our parents. Yes, I am one of them. I am a child of two people who want to have a better life - hence they flew out to another country. It’s been eight years now - but I never forget. My parents, no matter how stubborn they could be sometimes, have done so much for us already. The second we are born, they are lumped with the responsibility of taking care of us until we are eighteen.
But no, a lot of them still takes care of children even after forty.
Isn’t that amazing?
It’s true that we sometimes get this burning passion to be independent, to be away from them, and to just be free. But don’t worry - there’s a right time for that. Right now, try to spend all the time you can with them, because the minute they are taken away, you are left by yourself.
And that my friend, is actual independence. Don’t abuse. If you can, just be grateful.
This series focuses on the real-life stories of everybody. A rambling that allows one to realize. The series that allows people to get a breather, and to breathe. Sometimes you just have to let it all out, don't you think?
Volume Five: Reality Check
"I hate my parents."
"Why don’t they just leave me alone?"
"I’m old enough to make decisions for myself. I’m not a baby."
"Would it kill them to let me go in this party?"
"They’re so stupid."
"I wish they’d just disappear."
*********************************************************************
Hi, today, I had a fight with my parents. It was a very small argument, really. Nothing special. But let’s face it - we’re teenagers. And as these pheromone-al, emotional hunk of meat - our emotions will tend to be more active, our brains a little less.
For ten minutes, I imagined a world where they didn’t exist.
I saw a beautiful apartment. Seven floors, a pool in the back - maybe a hot tub, if I’m not stingy with myself. Nah, of course not.
Sharing is caring, after all.
Then I see money - lots of it. Sitting on top of a beautiful leather sofa. Just piles of it can be seen towering on each other, waiting to be spent on.
But on what?
I’ve already bought everything money could possibly buy - a house, expensive clothes, beautiful cars, good food, and shiny jewelry. Hell, I even bought my so-called ‘friends’ with money.
But why do I feel that something’s missing?
Oh.
A warm home.
But more importantly, the two important figures that makes such homes - ‘warm.’
A woman called ‘mom’ who tries to listen to all your petty problems while she quietly thinks about what food to prepare for tomorrow, or the money to pay for that food. The same one who tries her best to borrow cash from her coworkers to get that PS3 games you wanted so badly, you’d throw a tantrum over it. The very same one who tries to put you to school in hopes of reaching your dreams - an opportunity she was never able to have when she was a child. And there you are, skipping every single day of it.
And then you have this one called, 'dad.'
As the man of the family, he goes off early to work. He works hard there, but you don’t know that. Why not? Because whenever you see him, he is either sleeping in the couch or spending the night by himself with a beer in his hand. You call him 'alcoholic', 'useless', 'waste'.
But do you ever try to ask why? Why he looks so damn tired all the time? Because at work, he tries so hard to speak English. Yes, English.
You see, you came to America at such an early age - you quickly grabbed the language, you’ve mastered the ways, and you know how things are done.
But your dad? He came here when he was forty-three. After going around the world as a foreign worker, he decided it was time to come get his family no matter how expensive, as long as you can all be together. At work, he feels bad inside because the language barrier is just too hard for him. He can speak for a short time, but he knows - oh, he knows, that he can’t keep up with the conversation. It sounds petty, doesn’t it? But do you realize how hard it is - wanting to have a simple conversation with someone, but not being able to not because you don’t want to - but because you don’t know how to?
And who does he want to ask for help? Is it his wife - whose knowledge in English is similar to his? Or maybe his son - who just might be the right one? Of course, it would be his son! But why would this little bastard, who prefers to be never seen with his parents outside the house, help him?
And then to suddenly hear words such as, "Why are you guys so stupid?"
Who would bear?
As you’ve noticed by now, I’m dedicating this chapter to the immigrant families who immigrated in search for a better life. Sometimes, as children we forget that the lives we have now - we owe to our parents. Yes, I am one of them. I am a child of two people who want to have a better life - hence they flew out to another country. It’s been eight years now - but I never forget. My parents, no matter how stubborn they could be sometimes, have done so much for us already. The second we are born, they are lumped with the responsibility of taking care of us until we are eighteen.
But no, a lot of them still takes care of children even after forty.
Isn’t that amazing?
It’s true that we sometimes get this burning passion to be independent, to be away from them, and to just be free. But don’t worry - there’s a right time for that. Right now, try to spend all the time you can with them, because the minute they are taken away, you are left by yourself.
And that my friend, is actual independence. Don’t abuse. If you can, just be grateful.
Re: The Ramblings of a Seventeen-Year-Old Girl: Love
The Ramblings of a Seventeen-Year-Old Girl: A Fantasy First Date (6)
This series focuses on the real-life stories of everybody. A rambling that allows one to realize. The series that allows people to get a breather, and to breathe. Sometimes you just have to let it all out, don't you think?
Volume Six: A Girl, A Boy, And A Fantasy First Date
Get out of your stupid, realistic world for a second.
Remove the overloaded stress from any entity of our all-too risky, you-get-what-you-deserve-or-not-deserve world.
Right now, I want you to stop whatever you’re doing - and dream.
Here you are, sleepy as a daisy. You just had the worst nightmare - preventing you from getting the ‘appropriate’ eight-hour sleep. You wake up, realizing that your alarm had just went off. Like a robot programmed to do nothing but mundane things, you brush your teeth, take a bath, dress up, and off to your part-time job, which happens to be a cozy yogurt shop.
And then it happens.
As you stand in front of the all-too-familiar cash register, you think of a boy - a pretty boy, filled with roses and ponies, all the crap you try to fantasize him with. Personally I prefer if he had money, smarts, looks and talent - but hell, that’s like asking for the world and beyond.
Heh.
(Alright, let’s get back to our story.)
As you stand there waiting for the first customers, you wonder one thing.
"I wonder, where he is?"
He isn’t a co-worker, nor is he included in your contact list. He isn’t someone you get to talk to everyday, neither is he someone you can see all the time.
But it just had to be him, you know.
You don’t see him every day, but every chance you get to do - you feel like you’ve done a million great things in your past life that God had decided to shower you with this opportunity. He isn’t in your contact list, but he sure is someone you wish could have been in it. And when you get that rare chance to talk, you feel like Ninja, who could show a facade of a straight face, but could actually be melting on the inside.
Well, that girl is me.
The boy I have in mind is someone who works part-time near the area where I, coincidentally, work at. I met him through a friend, and when that friend had left, I assumed that he had no more reason to come by.
But wait. You see, miracles do exist.
Because at that moment, as I stand lethargically in front of the cash register waiting for a much-anticipated customer, I see him instead.
You know what I did? You guessed right.
I pretended that I was Ninja. I grabbed the nearest cloth, started cleaning the counter in front of me, and pretended that he was nobody in particular. (Oh men, just how good can us girl be.)
As he finished making his yogurt, he came to me to pay for his purchase. I smiled at him, the way a distant acquaintance would to another. And as any polite employee, I tried to make small talk.
"Long time no see!" I exclaimed, "how are you?"
(It had been weeks since I last saw him, and I was dying inside to know what had happened, but it isn’t that easy to ask, is it?)
"Oh yeah!" he replied, smiling, "that’s true. So how’s work?"
(It wasn’t the answer I was hoping for, but it sure is better than nothing. I knew he was only being polite, but hey, I’m a girl - and any words exchanged between my crush and myself is a dream.)
"Same, same," I replied as I busy my hand counting his change, "nothing really happens."
At this point, my friends, is when the crucial point happens. Will he ask me out, or will he walk away with a delicious yogurt in his hand? You see, the way things could have happened would be like this:
"Well then," he looked at me, "why don’t we go to the movies together?"
I would nod my head. Not so hard that he would think I’m too excited, but just enough to know I’m interested. And man, was I ever. He would take my number, and he'd tell me the date’s tonight. He would walk away, and my eyes would follow him like bees in line for honey. I would stare at the back of the boy I like very much, and smile.
We’d have a nice time, he would drive me home, and I would kiss him goodnight. Then, maybe he’ll pop by again the next day, and surely enough we’d start dating. And then… bla… bla... bla.
That would have been nice, wouldn’t it? But that just corresponded to at least 90% of high school teen dramas created in the world. But this is reality.
The boy said his thanks, smiled politely, and walked away. I did stare at the back of the boy I like very much, but then I realize - ‘just how much do I know about this boy that made me like him so much?’
His face? His polite way of talking? His smile? Maybe the fact that his uniform made him look 90% cooler?
That just corresponded to half of the boys who know what to wear and ways of sweet-talking. He could be one hell of an asshole, I just didn’t know him enough. Or maybe he really is much better than what I imagined - a protective, kind young man who will treat a girl like a Queen.
Whatever the case is, I’ve reached a conclusion. And hell, this was definitely hard to admit.
The truth is, it wasn’t ‘love’ or ‘like’ that I feel towards this boy. It is only, in fact - infatuation.
My desire to have a relationship and my somewhat picky-attitude had forced me to imprint my very emotions on the very next guy I find attractive and appealing. At that moment, the person I found was him. Truth be told, I did see him before I realized that we had a mutual friend. And the first thing that happened when our eyes met - it was that we smiled at each other.
I cannot remember what feelings were being formed then, but I do know something - that very small exchange we have with each other was genuine. Who knows what could happened in the future? Maybe he really did have feeling for me, maybe he wants to say hi, or maybe it really was the yogurt he was after. But one thing’s for certain - My imagination is only limited to my own existence, while reality has the capacity of the universe. I can only imagine us being together at that moment, based on what I have comprehended things could be. Reality, however, associated with two things - fate, and future.
We could be together now as two young adults and spend seven awesome months together, or we could eventually forget about each other now - only to find ourselves in each other’s arms ten years from now, as a loving husband to his wife.
Yeah, yeah. I know the idea of ‘marriage’ is tacky in our age, but sure is nice to know that such possibilities exist, right?
This series focuses on the real-life stories of everybody. A rambling that allows one to realize. The series that allows people to get a breather, and to breathe. Sometimes you just have to let it all out, don't you think?
Volume Six: A Girl, A Boy, And A Fantasy First Date
Get out of your stupid, realistic world for a second.
Remove the overloaded stress from any entity of our all-too risky, you-get-what-you-deserve-or-not-deserve world.
Right now, I want you to stop whatever you’re doing - and dream.
Here you are, sleepy as a daisy. You just had the worst nightmare - preventing you from getting the ‘appropriate’ eight-hour sleep. You wake up, realizing that your alarm had just went off. Like a robot programmed to do nothing but mundane things, you brush your teeth, take a bath, dress up, and off to your part-time job, which happens to be a cozy yogurt shop.
And then it happens.
As you stand in front of the all-too-familiar cash register, you think of a boy - a pretty boy, filled with roses and ponies, all the crap you try to fantasize him with. Personally I prefer if he had money, smarts, looks and talent - but hell, that’s like asking for the world and beyond.
Heh.
(Alright, let’s get back to our story.)
As you stand there waiting for the first customers, you wonder one thing.
"I wonder, where he is?"
He isn’t a co-worker, nor is he included in your contact list. He isn’t someone you get to talk to everyday, neither is he someone you can see all the time.
But it just had to be him, you know.
You don’t see him every day, but every chance you get to do - you feel like you’ve done a million great things in your past life that God had decided to shower you with this opportunity. He isn’t in your contact list, but he sure is someone you wish could have been in it. And when you get that rare chance to talk, you feel like Ninja, who could show a facade of a straight face, but could actually be melting on the inside.
Well, that girl is me.
The boy I have in mind is someone who works part-time near the area where I, coincidentally, work at. I met him through a friend, and when that friend had left, I assumed that he had no more reason to come by.
But wait. You see, miracles do exist.
Because at that moment, as I stand lethargically in front of the cash register waiting for a much-anticipated customer, I see him instead.
You know what I did? You guessed right.
I pretended that I was Ninja. I grabbed the nearest cloth, started cleaning the counter in front of me, and pretended that he was nobody in particular. (Oh men, just how good can us girl be.)
As he finished making his yogurt, he came to me to pay for his purchase. I smiled at him, the way a distant acquaintance would to another. And as any polite employee, I tried to make small talk.
"Long time no see!" I exclaimed, "how are you?"
(It had been weeks since I last saw him, and I was dying inside to know what had happened, but it isn’t that easy to ask, is it?)
"Oh yeah!" he replied, smiling, "that’s true. So how’s work?"
(It wasn’t the answer I was hoping for, but it sure is better than nothing. I knew he was only being polite, but hey, I’m a girl - and any words exchanged between my crush and myself is a dream.)
"Same, same," I replied as I busy my hand counting his change, "nothing really happens."
At this point, my friends, is when the crucial point happens. Will he ask me out, or will he walk away with a delicious yogurt in his hand? You see, the way things could have happened would be like this:
"Well then," he looked at me, "why don’t we go to the movies together?"
I would nod my head. Not so hard that he would think I’m too excited, but just enough to know I’m interested. And man, was I ever. He would take my number, and he'd tell me the date’s tonight. He would walk away, and my eyes would follow him like bees in line for honey. I would stare at the back of the boy I like very much, and smile.
We’d have a nice time, he would drive me home, and I would kiss him goodnight. Then, maybe he’ll pop by again the next day, and surely enough we’d start dating. And then… bla… bla... bla.
That would have been nice, wouldn’t it? But that just corresponded to at least 90% of high school teen dramas created in the world. But this is reality.
The boy said his thanks, smiled politely, and walked away. I did stare at the back of the boy I like very much, but then I realize - ‘just how much do I know about this boy that made me like him so much?’
His face? His polite way of talking? His smile? Maybe the fact that his uniform made him look 90% cooler?
That just corresponded to half of the boys who know what to wear and ways of sweet-talking. He could be one hell of an asshole, I just didn’t know him enough. Or maybe he really is much better than what I imagined - a protective, kind young man who will treat a girl like a Queen.
Whatever the case is, I’ve reached a conclusion. And hell, this was definitely hard to admit.
The truth is, it wasn’t ‘love’ or ‘like’ that I feel towards this boy. It is only, in fact - infatuation.
My desire to have a relationship and my somewhat picky-attitude had forced me to imprint my very emotions on the very next guy I find attractive and appealing. At that moment, the person I found was him. Truth be told, I did see him before I realized that we had a mutual friend. And the first thing that happened when our eyes met - it was that we smiled at each other.
I cannot remember what feelings were being formed then, but I do know something - that very small exchange we have with each other was genuine. Who knows what could happened in the future? Maybe he really did have feeling for me, maybe he wants to say hi, or maybe it really was the yogurt he was after. But one thing’s for certain - My imagination is only limited to my own existence, while reality has the capacity of the universe. I can only imagine us being together at that moment, based on what I have comprehended things could be. Reality, however, associated with two things - fate, and future.
We could be together now as two young adults and spend seven awesome months together, or we could eventually forget about each other now - only to find ourselves in each other’s arms ten years from now, as a loving husband to his wife.
Yeah, yeah. I know the idea of ‘marriage’ is tacky in our age, but sure is nice to know that such possibilities exist, right?