Sunday, October 10, 2004

Just last night I tried to call my best friend - just to have a little chat with him cause I'm already bored at my solitary confinment away from my friends. For the fourth and final try I was successful to talk to him. For a fact think how a 19 year nursing student could attend to the psychological needs of his best friends. Yet I do understand him for that since he needed much more time - time to relax from all the stressors he have.

When we started to converse, all my boredom seems to fly far away from me. I felt relieved, cause I wasn't deprived of the privilege on talking and talking. However, somewhere in the middle of our conversation that momentous feeling of happiness was abruptly replaced by envy. He had shared to me all his expriences, from becoming a debater down to the point of running into the student council. After which he decided to hang up for family reasons... his younger brother is still not at home, so I just said "okay, I understand good night."

Then I started to analyze my situation - "Why am I not like him? Why can't I achieve the things he had achieved?" Just then I realized that I'm really envious about him, for he has no inhibitions whatsoever that hinders him to achieve those common goals that we have, yet compared to me and my attitude - an almost broken jar and an incomplete jigsaw... Well how could I be like him if I haven't found that something that would me make complete? After all I felt that I'm already tampered, almost stained with blood within my arms and wrist. Stains that could never ever be removed from me... Was this the reason why I'm here in this solitude...? Was it that experience that somehow inhibited me...? Or was it my point of view?