During a talk with a priest at my local school, I asked whether or not the number of friends were a measure of how great a person I am. The priest pondered upon my question deeply, raised his hand and put it on my shoulder and he said, “While it IS a good measure to who you are and what kind of person you are, one doesn’t need a lot of friends to get by. One loyal friend is better than a dozen liars.” How true.

I remember the times I used to write this. I loved each sentence and introduction from Journals because each word took a piece of my heart and placed it on paper to be examined. It allowed me to zoom out and see things in perspective -- perfect perspective. I was also very afraid of writing Journals. It was scary for me to write my thoughts about my life because I am always afraid of ending my sentences. Ever thought about that?

Right now, I am feeling like utter crap. I just unloaded a lot of nihilistic bullshit to a friend of mine, that frankly got him surprised. I probably failed my ELC test... and the thing was, I studied really hard and even gave up my time to teach my fellow classmates but as life goes, they got it, I didn't. That hurts, it showed me how much I never get anything back. My friend upon hearing this situation, told me I shouldn't really expect anything from my friends as that is tantamount to getting disappointment. Truly this was the case and yet on the other end of the spectrum, there's my other friend who tells me I shouldn't bear it all alone. I didn't know what to believe -- both seemed like bullshit at this point.

The first quote up there basically set it all in stone. One loyal friend is better than a dozen liars. A priest really told me this when I told him about my problem -- I think it was the first time I ever admitted to someone about it. There is something in me that causes me to get depressed and it usually involves people. As a countermeasure, I tend to avoid them and keep them at a certain distance because I know, and this is has been proven, that trusting someone is like handing them a knife for your heart. I'm sorry if you are so appalled to read this but I would like to be entitled to my opinion. I've met a lot of liars and users in my life's course. People who take and take, never giving. I really don't understand whether they know how a friend is, frankly because, I never give them a chance to.

I mean why should I? Risk getting hurt and betrayed or worse, putting my hope in them when I have so few of that left in me. Stupid. I've had enough of putting my hope in people to help me because I've met too many liars or maybe they just don't understand even when they say they do. That's the stupidest thing of all, to feel sympathy for a guy when you don't even know what's bothering him. Then you go say things like, "Okay lang yan" or "It's going to work out." Cliches every one of them, out of the mouths of know-it-alls. I'm taking an excerpt out of Isaac when I say, I'd rather be alone than be in a room full of assholes because that was the truth. So loneliness is the price to pay for a security? Yes, that was the case. My life turned into a lonely road then -- live detached, unopposed and ... much to my regret... filled with anger and sorrow.

Why? Because one person can only take so much. Let me take a line from Berk, "thats what you get when you try to take everything in" What I got was this heavy feeling in my heart everytime I wake up in the morning as well as this urge to vent my stress on something. That's what I get for keeping it all to myself. I was getting hurt by trying to avoid getting hurt, weird. I used to think I was strong enough to handle things especially when I deconstruct things to not matter but some things just do and they hurt -- hurts enough to make me shed a tear. So I end up telling someone about it and they give me the same cliches but then... there are those few, the handful few, who gives you just what you need and that gives me back some hope, hope to try living again the next day.

So I find myself in a dilemma. My life is a spin cycle of disappointment and hope whether they each take a turn at screwing me over. I don't want to think about it but I do, especially now when disappointment is printed all over my face. I want to cry but I can't. I want to talk to someone but no one's here right now. So I sit alone in my room and seek solace in the one thing I can turn to, writing because then, everything seems to be so simple as typing words and everything ends with a period. Though it's not always easy to end sentences, the decision is ultimately up to me, that gives me a little control at least.

In the end, I still feel like crap right now. Nothing has changed after writing about all this, just a clear reflection about how Marty is trying to desperately scream out loud how much life sucks. It does, it really does but life goes on. I don't plan on changing my ways any time soon because I have yet to be proven an opinion to believe in except maybe... that one loyal friend is better than a dozen liars.

I'd make that one for keeps, would you?