Dear You,

For the past three weeks or so, I’ve been so busy with your PhD dissertation, from the printing, formatting (or  looking for people to do it), running after your committee members for their signatures, submitting it to the graduate school, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. In other words, it has taken so much of my time and energy. I wouldn’t have done those things if not for your very nice adviser, who asked me ever so nicely to help you out. I know you’re back in your Motherland, and still recuperating from your illness, and would do all these things if you could, but can I ask for some understanding, and some apology?

When a very important document went missing, and it was very crucial for your graduation, I did my best to find it. I was beseeching St. Anthony the whole time, to help find the document. It all seemed in vain, and if it couldn’t be found, the bucket would stop with me, and all the blame would be on me. In other words, I’d be dead meat. And I’d probably have to shell $500, which I didn’t (and still don’t) have. I cried in front of many people when the staff at the graduate school couldn’t find it. Out of sheer frustration, I cried. I was tired of your dissertation. I was tired of doing stuff that wasn’t mine. I had my own job and my own problems to think about. It was all too much. And then, after realizing their mistake in filing, they found the blasted document. I think I even cried harder after that. I heaved a big sigh of relief and gave thank to St. Anthony.

After that, I emailed you, to sort of give you a picture of what I’ve been going through. Of course, I told you I cried—in front of many freaking people. And then what do I get? A phonecall from you later in the afternoon. You laughed. You LAUGHED. You laughed at what happened. You laughed at ME. It was no laughing matter, please. If they hadn’t found the document, I don’t think you’d laugh. You just insulted me. You belittled my hardships and my emotions. You said “thank you”, but I was waiting to hear “I’m sorry”. You’re my friend, yes, BUT please, I am only human and I can only take so much. The next time you call, I won’t even bother answering my phone. I’ve had enough of you and your dissertation. Ask someone else to do the stuff for you, because I am this tired:

Have some pity on me, at the very least.

Me

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