Actually, the real story happened almost a month ago. But the real fun started when some of the Tiffanies—most of whom are advocates of the anti-Dodette campaign—had the chance to meet again in a party. When the self-proclaimed president of the aforementioned crusade brought up about IT-which-must-not-be-named, I suddenly said—and I roughly quote myself—“Let’s not talk about IT, as if it doesn’t exist.” I brought his non existence issue to a higher level when I remembered a catchy line spoken by my fiction guru—Carrie Bradshaw—“It’s fiction, fiction!” This statement instantaneously gained popularity. Even without formally asking me what happened why I was erasing *%$!@#’s existence, I caught [almost] every body shouting this expression anytime they wanted to.

Did he really do something so bad, that I was compelled, much to my regret, to extinguish his existence? Am I capable of kicking someone out of my life?

A month ago, my answer for the first inquiry would have been YES. (For the second one, I still don’t know). But as my firing anger has subsided, the answer now will be drastically different. Because I still believe that I have a genuinely good heart, I’ll be using his name from here onwards.

I met Danuel when I was in the eighth grade [so was he, duh!]. Even before he introduced himself to me, I knew him already—by name and by face. I heard a lot of quirky, sometimes irritating, stories about him. But I set those stories aside. I wanted to know him through my personal lens. Since we were seatmates during the first quarter of that school year, I really got the front-row ticket to know him better. The first few weeks were fine. We had a great time as new classmates, generally and as seatmates, more particularly. Actually, I started to discover someone who was tremendously different from the stories that I heard from my friends. There were some incidents when I defended him from the bullets coming from the anti-Danuel campaign—back then, it attracted only few people. I expected that it would be a fairy tale story where everybody was happy. Not until the b*tch in him finally woke up from a deep sleep. The rumors that he was a war freak suddenly became true. People started to complaint about his annoying attitude. I was in denial. Not until I experienced his bitchiness-in-flesh.

Once upon a time, in our Electronics class (with Mr. Panistante)—oh, what a good time to unleash the cat in me once again—my abundant patient was emptied. In our Electronics laboratory, the students of 2-Rizal watched happily as Danuel and I rolled on the floor. It’s one of the few ground battles that I’d been to that I really am ashamed of. It was a non-sense fight of the century. I did fight for nothing; so did he. Our prize: a minor offence for each. After that shameful incident, every thing between us changed—at least, for me. Years have passed. And since the Creator sometimes works in funny ways, Danuel-aka-Dodette and I are enrolled in archrival schools—ADMU and DLSU, respectively. 

I made it a point that our friendship floats on a very smooth current. I don’t want to mess up with this guy again because for sure I can throw our friendship into the trash bin anytime. The expected thing happened. Our latest clashed became the culmination of my friendship with him—again, at least for me. It was the day that I said, “I’ve had enough of this guy!” How can I prove to you that I’ve had enough of him? Is the expression, “He’s fiction, fiction!” not enough yet?

Honestly, I’m upset in everything that’s happening between him and I. Sure do I want to reconnect with him. After all, he’s been a part of my life. But there are factors that are hindering me to push through with this noble dream. Every time there’s an opportunity to resuscitate my dying friendship with him, something will always arise that will reactivate my anger [to him]. It really is mind-boggling why I have this deep anger towards this witch—oops, I mean bitch. No matter what I do, I cannot trace back the path to that situation where I can associate my anger to him. Miguel and I keep on discussing this conundrum about Danuel. The only theory that we came up with is that maybe we are so fed up with the stories—bad rumors—about him. No matter how fresh the lens that we will be using in assessing him, at the back of our minds, his character will forever be tarnished by those chismis. Indeed, it’s unfair. But then again, we’re just humans. No matter how we try to evaluate him with the purest of all intentions, we always go back to square 1. The efforts to build the bridge that will bring us near to him will always burn even by the slightest wrong move he makes. This situation is weird. You know why? When I did something wrong to Jomer, our friendship didn’t stall. Instead, we considered that hurdle simply as a test of our friendship—nothing more, nothing less; no issues. But if it’s with him, believe me; things will surely go to the rocky path.

A conversation with Jomer made my otherwise different answer to my questions to something fairer [to both parties]. Right after the September-17-event, I called Jomer and talked to him about what happened. By the way, Jomer is the self-proclaimed president of the anti-Dodette campaign, whom I’ve mentioned few paragraphs ago. Going back to the mainstream story, in that call, I told Jomer that I wanted to join his organization. He welcomed me with open arms. After an hour of talking, he warned me that I should be very firm with my decision of joining the “organization.” I hope I am not giving you an impression that this is a formal organization because it’s not. He added that I always change my mind every time a person asks forgiveness from me. He also said, “Ganyan ka eh, konting sorry bibigay ka…” His short speech has touched the gentlest portion of my heart. His statements awaken me from the hypnosis of my anger towards Danuel. I realized how dwarf my anger compared to his [Jomer’s]. The spark of kindness in me helped me reach an epiphany: I was mad at Danuel because he did not respect his commitment to me on the day of my thesis shoot—when I badly needed him. But it didn’t necessarily mean that my fury could lead me to erase his existence in my life.

Now that I’m constructing this particular journal entry, my anger is nowhere to be found. When I popularized the fiction-fiction-statement that night during Denver’s party, all in my mind was: It was fun! I was laughing hard especially when people were using that statement in reference to him. I had F-U-N; that was it.

I believe that I’m a good person. I believe that I don’t have the capability of erasing somebody’s existence; not especially if s/he has been a part of my life for half a decade. My rage may lead me to do or to say something irrational, but that’s just it. I don’t harbor anger towards anybody; it’s simply not my cup of tea. I may be mad for few hours, but rest assured—given the enough time—every inch of anger will be flushed out of my system.

Danuel may have done or said things that were really irritating; I may have been angry at him for so many times; but I’m sure I’ll hold tight on that fragile feather of friendship that binds us. It will be a struggle but I’m sure I’ll never let go.     

Having said all these, do you think Danuel doesn’t matter in my life? Of course, he does. Why am I offering a three-page journal to him if he doesn’t?