I am tired of being a dump site. It seems like I was born to be the listener of a dumper-talker. I will always be the one to nod and give an assuring smile. It’s okay. Fulfilling, even,. To think that out of many people in their lives, they chose me to held one of the keys of their life – their deepest secrets.
But as I ponder further, I started to ask myself. Do these people also think I have stories caged in my chest, waiting to be pardoned and set free? Just a little naked truth. They usually don’t.
Little did they realize that I too am a talker. It is just that I am more like a jester. I would talk about scraps of joke, unnecessary talks,waves of not-so wholesome ones and others not worth mentioning. Why? I cant seem to talk about serious stuff to people. Stuffs like a bowl of family, a scoop of school, a spoonful of concerns, a cup of things I love and of course, a slice of life.
I want to speak what I feel, what I like,what I want, and a whole lot of things. Yet some special people seem to get awkward whenever I bring up to these kinds of conversations. Maybe they think it is too weird for me to be serious because they boxed me into someone jolly, happy-go-lucky and a bit senseless. Maybe they thought I do not give a damn to the world. My heart breaks a little. Little did they know I also want to tell stories of my dreamland adventures, of my quests to the farthest constellations and of the just the littlest of the tiniest trips of things that stirs in my head. To be comforted whenever I am down, to be cared whenever I lose a grip of myself and to be cheered whenever I forget to believe in myself. But I may seem incapable of these because I am that tough girl who might punch you in the face whenever you’ll make a mistake.
Friends are the flowers in the garden of our soul. But some flowers have thorns and you might carelessly prick and hurt yourself. I like these flowers less. When you planted them and gave them everything they need, they might just stuck their prickly thorns at you and leave you crying in vain. That is why at times, I dislike people. Not because I feel alien for that matter but because they only think of themselves. Then I realized I had started looking for a soul eater rather than a soulmate. I started looking for someone who would devour all the woven fibers of my soul, who would chew the doubts and uncertainties clinging in every strand, and who would not only listen to my stories but would rather have them for dinner.
In this world where talkers and listeners alike forget the meaning of friendship, one must constantly remind them that friendship is not a one way trip to be taken for granted. Friendship is supposedly a two-way, give and take relationship in order for it to grow and withstand the test of time.