Stop Reading My Diary, Alice!

When Little Ja was eleven years old, she wrote some lies in her diary, but she thought she had to do it, so that she can make her cousin Alice feel so bad that she’d stop reading her diary. Little Ja’s angry words were:  I really hate Alice. I really don’t like her at all! She’s just useful to me when I have enemies. We had a fight but we were “ex-friends” again. And Wednesday almost bited me! This is a bad week today. (Source: Sugar Cream Puff Diary, Volume 1, Gr. 4-5)

When we were kids, my cousin Alice and I lived near each other. So after school, she’d come by my house, and, from the moment she’d arrive, up to the time she’d leave, we’d be inseparable. That can range from amicably playing together to being inseparable because we were completely committed to pulling each other’s hair. But during her daily visits there was bath/toilet time, and naturally, we wouldn’t be together in the bathroom.

Things changed when one day, I emerged from the bath, fully scrubbed clean by my mother, when Alice greeted me with, Nabasa ko yung diary mo! and proceeded to recite all the private details of my young life–my crush on the cute guy in school, my problems with my loose tooth, and the terrible week I had being bored in the province. I tried to find a better hiding place for my diary, but Alice was a good snoop. She’d find it again, and tell me again, that she succeeded in discovering my secrets.

From then on I began insisting that we take a bath together, and once we even peed together. She was sitting on half of the toilet bowl, and I sat on the other half, and we both peed into the toilet. Gross, right? This arrangement didn’t make sense all the time, especially since we were already growing up, and so we started feeling embarrassed about being seen naked by our fellow little peer. We’re eleven years old already! We can’t take a bath together!

So I took the matter into my own hands. I got my diary and wrote those untrue words with my pencil. I didn’t really hate Alice, I just wanted her to stop using what I wrote as a weapon against me, to make me feel ashamed, to make me feel like shit, to bully me. So I used my own diary as a weapon against her, to make her feel ashamed, to make her feel like shit, to bully her. Two can play that game, I thought. This is war!

So I lied. I said I hated her, hoping she’d leave me be and give me a modicum respect.

She stopped reading my diary, but she also stopped being warm to me.

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Note: Name/s was/were changed to protect identity/identities.

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