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My Friends: a Postmortem

Published: 21 May 2019

Class photo of 1993's St. Bonaventure at Lourdes Mandaluyong

No, my friends are not dead.

I embarked on a journey earlier this month about rediscovering the people that mean to me. People who would know me and whom I think I know inside and out. That's because at the time, I felt surrounded by so many people who just didn't care whether you're trying to be nice to them, good to them, that you are willing to do stuff for them. They just didn't care. Well, at least that's how I felt.

It was a nice activity, remembering what made me and my friends tick. To be sure, all that I've written isn't a comprehensive summary. It's not even the complete highlights. But I just wanted to point out, especially to myself, that there are no perfect friends. There are no perfect people. And while I don't want to say that the relationship between my friends and I is based on tolerance, we do exercise a lot of it for each other.

We have a lot of things in common. We also have a lot of differences. We fight. We make our peace. Sometimes, we disappear and forget. More often, we remember. And we come together to celebrate our friendship.

This might not be the end of it. There are so many people whom I have fond memories of and with whom I want to reconnect. I have some 160-something brothers, after all. And a few sisters who are scattered everywhere— some of them may still hate me, for sure. LOL! I don't mind. I've made mistakes but I'm not afraid to face whatever consequences they may bring. Perhaps, one day we will make our peace as well.

“Show me who your friends are, and I will tell you who you are,” Valdimir Lenin said. The guy has no special place in my mind but it's a quip that I've always heard. So, who are your friends? What are they like? What do you fight about? What makes you stick together? Who are you?

I would like to know.