“Nobody likes Milhouse.”
We laughed for hours it seems just by that phrase. It was ridiculous but we laughed at it for hours. You’re the only person that I could talk about nothing for hours on end and be assured that you were pretty much enjoying the conversation about nothing as much as I was.
You’re also the only person I know that watches almost as much television as I do, plays pretty much the same kind of video games as I do, and pretty much had that sort of lax attitude towards most things as I do. You understood me. You tolerated my stupidity. All of that was quite reassuring. Thanks.
But then there was the whole fact that I was pretty much the only one who tried keeping ties with us close. I was pretty much the only one who called and checked on you every now and then. If I never called, I’d never hear from you. I had this crazy idea that you’d change this whole passive shit.
I mean, we had a fight or two about it, it’s only natural I had that hint of hope you’d get a clue. I had hope that you’d actually do something insane and physically call me on your own without the phone call being about a favor. Like check up on me like I usually did with you.
But then you didn’t. I don’t know what took me so long to realize you wouldn’t. If anything, you grew more distant. You denied that fact numerous times over. Even the incident with the Poetry Slam you denied it and you clearly knew your priorities and they were simply not with me.
I knew ending our friendship wouldn’t have mattered. You were the one everyone loved. You were the one who had the masses wanting to be your friend. You were the one with the dozens upon dozens of fans over the internet. You were the one with everyone’s attention. And you never even had to make the effort. You were just that loveable.
I was just like everyone. Times with you were amazing; there was a reason I tried. You knew about how much I cared about you … but you never properly took the time to really show or say how much you cared about me.
If you did.
It was difficult writing a letter to you after our friendship was all done with. You were all I had for a long time. What a fucked up way to live trying at a one-sided relationship. And now, it’s all I know and I don’t want it anymore. The fact there’s a chance I’ll wind up in that same situation again prevents me from even trying. I’m so tired of trying.
Also, I question my self worth, Michelle. All the time. You know why? Because why would anyone give a damn about me when my own best friend didn’t care to give me a single phone call?
Oh the funniest thing happened. When I was dragged to church this week, the homily was centered on forgiveness. And the thought of, “Oh, I should forgive those who have wronged me … Like TIM perhaps.”
But then I thought, what would I forgive you for?
You did absolutely nothing.
Some people avoid confrontation but this is ridiculous.
How difficult would it have been to utter two simple words: SEEING SOMEONE? Apparently way more difficult then making out with total disregard of my feelings. Of course. Making out is always simple … and oh so fun, ain’t it? ESPECIALLY at the expense of someone’s feelings. Always. You are the only person I hate in this world and you could have easily prevented this by saying those two simple words.
I guess I was simply not worth your time.
Alex is, after all, perfect in every way it seems.
And a hand written letter? So juvenile I guess …
But yes, as much as you make me sad, you make me feel equally as angry. I have these sick twisted scenarios of torturing you. Oh how I wish you were in so much pain … physically but most of all, emotionally. I won’t go through the details because you know what? No bad is ever going to come to you. The most you’ll have to deal with is what to do with the millions you make.
As much as I loathe you, you’re an enormous talent. Like, I adore your band but I just plain loathe you. If not the music, you’re going to make it in Hollywood. You’re going to the fucking Art Institute for god’s sakes. If not Hollywood, you’re even smart so who cares? You’re going to be pretty well off and happy no matter what.
I can hope for karma will do its course but it seems no matter how much you hurt me, I know it will not affect you. I know you don’t give a flying fuck about what you did to me … or what you didn’t. All I can hope is that you turn into that cold hearted CEO you dreaded.
But then again, that’s probably all you want at this point. How would I know?
One part is done, you’re pretty much categorized as cold hearted to me.
I like your curly hair. It goes bouncy whenever I touch it.
I’m not sure what to say. The times you and everyone else were at my house were simply awesome. They didn’t require much to be awesome. Just a movie or a few downloaded episodes of Invader ZIM.
I remember piling many people onto one couch for a few movies. We made it work. Even though there were about 5 to 7 of us.
I really don’t have much to say. We never really talked. Mostly my fault. Like I remember when you drove me home one day and there was basically this awkward silence the whole ride through.
I really wouldn’t know what to say.
The thing is about everyone I adore the company of … You, Heneghan, Karl, JP, Sara, Leah, Russ … Etc … My shyness was pretty much brought out by total intimidation.
For as long as I can remember, I never was able to talk to you (and basically everyone in this group) because I knew how smart you guys were and … It showed a lot in normal conversation. I felt out of place enough being an average student at Northside … Then somehow this group accepts me. But I haven’t the slightest idea why.
I don’t talk politics. I don’t have in my memory volumes of information that no one knows. I can barely pronounce those $20 words let alone properly use them in a sentence. I barely talk at all … How did this happen?
I just felt that, whatever I’d say would not matter or be relevant to any conversation taking place. I think that anything I thought of to say seemed self centered and whiney.
“Oh jebus, Diona’s depressed again …”
No one wants to hear that. It was either that or something that has nothing to do with anything. TV which no one watches anymore, cartoon quotes, pop culture … food even? So quiet was the way to go. I really don’t like talking politics.
Your intelligence scared me. Everyone’s did. It still does.
But I do miss the get-togethers at my house though. Buy a pizza, buy some soda, rent a flick … everyone to my house?
Phillip, I have not talked to you in such a long time. It’s amazing that I decided to write one of these to you.
From all the people I’ve talked to over the years, you’re the one I miss the most. You’re just such a great guy to sit down and talk with. I mean, conversations with you can range from AP classes and drama with friends to I don’t know, Digimon. You have this seriousness then you can just turn into a child.
Don’t worry, this is a good thing. I love your Digimon rants. I mean, whenever I walk into a Ragstock, I’m just tempted to buy you a pair of goggles.
I remember sophomore year when we used to talk a lot. Those days in the pool hallway were just great. I still have many pictures from those days. You, James, and Jenna … Those pictures were just great.
I even remember doing the Veterans project with you and Dennis. I remembered how cool things were between all three of us … I also remember that you’re grandparents were just about the coolest grandparents around. Good year sophomore year.
Then I guess we just drifted apart. There was that brief few weeks of sharing AP Music Theory together (as well as lunch because it was a half a period) but after that, no classes with each other so really, no more contact. I don’t know what happened. I wasn’t active in school, no Asian club or I-night for me. I guess groups didn’t really work even though I loved all the people you were accompanied with.
And even now, we go to the same college but I’ve only run into you once this entire time. I still miss you, guy. We have to chillax together between classes someday. It’ll be a good time. It has to happen before you become a lavishly rich yuppie. If you don’t become rich in something academic, I’m sure you would excel in a career in music and fine arts.
If anything, you and yo’ crew can continue the Tinikling gigs. There are a lot of Filpinos and Filipino parties!
I’ve had a lot of time to think about you simply because I hear so much about you from different people. Other than that, I have your blog to read.
In all actuality, I don’t really enjoy reading your blog. Yes, I know I should stop reading if I don’t like it. It’s a lot like any other teenager’s blog: summaries of the day, touch of angst here and there, a few paragraphs of obsession of the current love interest. Why on earth do I read? I shouldn’t really complain, I’m sure I do the same a lot too.
This blog is all I have to build a picture of you. In my LJ, I called it the epitome of teenagerdom. That can be a number of things but that’s what I see when I read your blog. Not really something to be proud of. I really should stop reading if I don’t like it.
What about those people who talk about you?
“She loves people who don’t love her and hates people who do.”
That sums it up. A lot of what I hear about you is negative. You were malicious to people for no good reason. Then you carry on picking people who are “cool” to be friends with and when you get that, you tend to forget about who you left behind but then try to get those people back ages later …expecting everything to be fine? I do not understand that at all.
The quote explains all to me. It explains all.
In all actuality, you haven’t done anything directly to me to cause me to dislike you. You’re all peachy keen when chatting with me. Like very nice. Like nothing is wrong … of course nothing’s wrong. That’s the only positive aspect I can think of when I think of you.
But it’s hard to ignore other opinions of you considering it’s from people I respect and trust.
You were intimidated by a 4’10” Filipino girl with a panda on her head. I’m still quite perplexed by that, chickadee.
Oh you’re quite the awesome girl. You’re going to be a famous painter and douche bag celebrities like Leonardo DiCaprio will buy your artwork like mad. It’s going to be fabulous. Then you can pay back Joe with that pony you never gave. HA, I kid.
He actually wants a pony though.
I guess I was a little intimidated by you too. Or perhaps it’s that natural feeling of being annoyed by people younger than you sometimes. I don’t really know. I remember colloquium and how you were so good at calligraphy. Not quite talking yet but that’s something.
I lose track of when I start talking to people.
You’re such a sweetie to me. You were right beside Pablo in Room for All. I adore the hugs you give me. I love when we just walk around with our arms linked … Just talking about how irritating AP Chemistry with Mr. D can be. Well, I guess we can’t do that anymore but it was good times.
We can now talk about how honours art classes are a pain in the arse and how colloquium can suck. Then we can run away to Chinatown with a dozen of your acquaintances for Dim Sum. You’ll be my buddy at Northside functions along with Pablo. It’ll be a good time. Don’t stop talking to me, chickadee.
Well, I guess that’s your choice. Try not to get tired of me? I LOVE YOUUUuuuuuu … You’re also très sexy. Rawr.
You silly, silly boy. You make me smile with your odd ways. You are a weird one but that just makes the world more interesting. I’m glad to be with you. Your weirdness can scare me sometimes! You really do make the world a bit more interesting though. Really.
So it’s been about three months now. What can I say? Everything’s been great. You ride the train with me late at night, southside to northside and back when you don’t have to. You’re there for me when I’m sad. You’re there for me when I’m angry … You’re even there when I’m bitchy and lashing out at you for no good reason.
Thank you.
It’s peculiar to be writing about you after writing about Henry. He sang me songs, you sing me songs. We started going out at the end of a school year, Henry and I started going out at the end of the school year … Both at the end of something big: ending of elementary school, ending of high school. It’s just odd how that works.
But I guess there wasn’t a 21-inch height difference.
What we have is pretty unique. You’re totally like a best friend … LIKE, ohmigod. I can sit and play San Andreas all day with you, play minigames on MapleStory dozens of times over, watch movies and/or cartoons again and again because they’re just so great to watch with you … I’m just so content with everything now even with the transition of somewhat icky high school to the even more icky college. Things will get better.
Also, you brought MacGyver into my life. That’s pretty big right there.
You’re just too awesome. I feel so comfortable with you. I love you. You’re such a sweetie-pie. You spoil me! I’m still wondering if I deserve such awesomeness in a boyfriend.
Let’s make it last as long as possible. Everything so far has been simply awesome. I know someday we’ll be eating everything imaginable and it wouldn’t bother you.
I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately.
You know this already.
To tell you the truth, for the past few years, I’ve been trying to block out what our relationship was. Whenever I thought of it, I just thought of how immature we were … Like, those typical horny teenagers. I hated that and yet, we were basically it. I never really thought of it in any other way. And it was just forgotten for a while.
But why now do I think of you? The topic of past relationships came up I guess. When I actually think back on all those moments I had with you, I absolutely adored them. All the pictures we have with each other. All the doodles of “Di & Freddie George”. All those times you used to sing over the phone. All the poetry just for me. It was ridiculously corny but who wouldn’t love that?
Then I remember even making you a mixed CD with more corny-ness. All those random love songs paired with a lame CD design.
And I just bring all that to a halt because of my immaturity. Just now I feel rotten about hurting you so badly. When I actually sit down and think of the good reason I broke up with you, I couldn’t really think of one. I’m sorry. Took me so long but I’m sorry.
I don’t know how you are really. Last time I spoke to you was via AIM and it was brief … and you were stoned. I don’t think you think of me. You’ve had what … dozens of girlfriends since me. And if you do think of me, I don’t think it’s anything positive.
I think of you but I don’t know what to think of you. Arrested? For narcotics? Everything’s changed. I should get used to the fact I’m probably the last living clean unreligious St. Ed’s kid. Hell, even the religious ones aren’t clean. But I really don’t know what to think of you. I knew I loved you. To some extent, I still do. You were my first love. It was great. I don’t know what would’ve happened if things went more smoothly.
I really don’t know what to think of you.
I remember freshman year when I used to hang out with Kelly and she’d used to be so mean. She’d say cruel things about you and I wouldn’t really understand why. I guess it bothered me to the point to where her opinions made me avoid you a little because … All I knew about you was what she said.
I deeply regret that.
I should have known better.
Whenever I think of you, you’re just about the coolest chick around. Whenever I think of you, I just run through my mind this list of wishes like … I wish I knew you better, I wish I talked to you more, I wish I followed you around to concerts, I wish, I wish. I still have ‘em. It’d be nice to go to a concert with you. Invite me! I haven’t had the greatest concert experiences! You know what you’re talking about!
I loved how you’d listen and understand and give me feedback on any sort of babble I gave you. You’re such a great friend! I wish I knew you better. I wish I made more an effort to while you were there to be that great friend. Tell me stufffff … I told you enough stufffff … You tell me stufffffff …
Keep at the screenplays. They’re quite awesome. I’ve always loved the style you wrote in. Don’t forget me when you become uber famous with them. You can get me a pony or something. Ha, I kid … Well, a pony would be pretty great actually. HA … I kid, love ya mate … Hope you find your rockstar boy toy as well. White boys with guitars all the way.
Oh my bus buddy, I miss you kiddo. You’re a smart mofo and you won’t admit it. You can do just about anything kiddo. I know you’ll make Room for All uber fabulous. I’m sure you can think of a valid reason to screen Party Monster at school.
I don’t know when was the precise time I started talking to you but I loved ya cause man, that bus ride home can be a bitch alone but it wouldn’t be with you around. Even now, I can remember waiting some days for you and just being sad that you’d be busy that afternoon. No bus buddy, quiet ride home … alone. Oh the sadness! I wish I met you sooner.
I’m forever thankful for you being there every Friday (or later, Monday) for GSA. It made it all worthwhile to try because hey, I can always look forward to supportive Pablo right after … or during which was in most cases.
I still miss you. You have to keep in contact with me, boy. Come with me and Barbara to school events this last year you have at Northside. We’ll go to Mayflower afterwards and me and Barbara can poke at how little you ate. Tell me what college you go to … Tell me what you major in … Tell me about your many boyfriends … Tell me about what your creepy younger brother’s done lately. I’d love to hear it.
If anything, we can talk about nothing. I love our conversations about nothing. Love you Pablo, if I didn’t, I’d probably be calling my laptop something other than Pallo.