My first day as a paralegal

I'd been waiting for this day for weeks. I'm excited by the prospect of learning legal lingo and whatnot, but also because my new teammates seem as nice as the one in the old one.

I moved from the sixth floor to the fourteenth. Maybe it's because we have our founding parter on this floor; everything seems nicer here. Even the washroom is fancier. My cubicle is about the same size but I feel like this one is more spacious because I used to have a bunch of communal stuff in the corner of my desk in the old office. Also I have an awesome monitor which is about 2.5x my old one. Most of times I need to work with multiple windows and my old monitor was too small to handle three at the same time. I'm sure this new one can handle six without a problem. The CPU seems a bit faster as well, but I could be wrong.

The day is progressing rather slowly for me today. I don't think any of the lawyers are really aware of my presence in this team... yet. I think they will get to know soon enough, it's just that the division I'm responsible for (Corporate finance) doesn't need a paralegal right this minute. I suppose I should count my blessing for being able to ease into this new job.

Will report more once I come across things that are actually worth reporting.

The Confession of a Shoppaholic

It's been pretty much established that I am a shoppaholic. I shop mor often than I need to.

But these days I can't help but feel that shopping is one of the few things that make me happy, if not the only thing. This is different from when I shopped with my friends and shopping itself was something of a social activity. Back then I was just happy window-shopping; I didn't need to actually buy anything.

I don't like shopping in stores because I assume they don't have my size, and even if they do I'm a bit embarrassed asking them for it. I never felt this way when I shopped in Vancouver. No one made me feel insecure about my body this much. I'm not saying there's a bunch of people that make fun of my weight. Quite frankly I've seen a good number of heavy women since I got here. Still, there are more skinny people than fat ones. They may not be as tall as me or as well-endowed in the chest area as I am, but they're thin. In this society that's all that matters.
Back in Canada I never felt self-conscious about how I looked in the outfit I chose. My bottom line was to feel physically comfortable in my clothes. I didn't feel like anyone was telling me to lose weight. The only motivation I had for losing weight was to fit into my old clothes. That's still true even now.
I'm surrounded by ads for plastic surgeons, diet clinics, and other things you need to survive in this superficial country. Even Koreans themselves admit that the majority of the nation is all about looks.

And here I am, shopping and judging at the same time. Virtually endlessly. Can I really blame Koreans for their ways? I feel empty without looking into photos of clothes and shoes. Until my first paycheck as a paralegal arrives I'm more or less destitute. But I can't stop.

I remember how I felt when I stopped smoking for the first time. I hadn't even been smoking that much but when the withdrawal kicked in, I was nervous and twitchy.

Shopping doesn't have the same intensity but the symptoms are similar. I need to stare at those photos at least. Add something to my wishlist. I am irritated by the fact that the website doesn't update the catalogue as often as I would like. Every once in a while I need to buy them. Purchases can be made all so easily online. Too easily.

It saddens me that the only thing that gives me an ounce of joy is as trivial as shopping. My source of happiness is made of fabric, rubber, and metal.
I hope I can be busy as hell real soon. Too much free time makes me depressed.

Cry me a river

Every night when I come home from work, I have to say 다녀왔습니다 (danyowatsumnida, a polite way of saying "I'm home") twice. Once to my mom when she greets me at the door, and to my dad, who is glued to the TV. I've resented having to do that mainly because I felt like he was trying to assert his patriarchal power. He doesn't come to the door; I must come to him.
One may think that he doesn't hear me come in. That's impossible, I assure you. The door slams shut very loudly even if I try to be careful, and when I press the button to unlock the door it makes loud beeping noises. So there's virtually no chance that he can't hear me.
He does little at home... at least to my knowledge. Grant it he watches the stock market all day and we live off the profit he makes, but it's not like he's actually out there working. House chores are, of course, delegated to my mom. Ever since my father's mother came to live with us her workload seems to have doubled. Dad helps, I admit, but I doubt he does as much as my mom.

Last night I was feeling especially resentful and I ignored him.
I didn't really think of it much until my mom came to my room and asked me if I said hi to dad. I asked sarcastically, "oh was he home?"
When I came to the dinner table I had to say hi, and when I did, dad stared at me wordlessly. I asked if anything was wrong. After a long pause he said no.
For a person with balls, my dad can be a little bitch sometimes.
My dad asked me if I didn't see him. I lied and said that I didn't see him the first time. Appeased, he tried to be all friendly again. He talks a lot when he tries to uplift the mood. I didn't say much at the table, if not at all. I wanted to show him how much it sucks when he sits at the table all sulking, but I doubt that he saw my point.

It's so natural for me and my mom to try to please dad. He's been taking it for granted. And now that he's, let's face it, jobless, he feels like he needs to solidify his status in the family as the alpha male. The head of the family. This is what I hate.

I'm all for paying respects to my elders. One of the things I absolutely hated when my house was filled with homestay students was how disrespectful they were towards my parents.
But whenever my dad acts like a dick I just want to punch him in the face. I'm not joking. He once threatened me with a golf club. Why not I?

Morning commute and other things

It's getting increasingly difficult for me to get to work by bus every morning. Getting up early, I can tolerate; what I cannot stand is the hot, stuffy air within the bus.
It was actually better during the summer beause drivers usually had AC on full. Nowadays it's getting colder, and they sometimes turn the heating on. Even if they don't the bus gets heated up because of the body temperature and breaths exhaled. Most buses don't have a window and I'm stuck in a bus filled with 30+ people with all the carbon dioxide they expel.
This morning I was especially tired becuase I hadn't got much sleep last night, and I just wanted to faint. At some point I thought I had missed my stop (I didn't). Even the smallest things bother me when I'm feeling too warm. A girl that was sitting next to me was watching a video on her cellphone and her elbow was touching mine. I just wanted to smack her on the arm and tell her to scoot.
But that would be an unnecessary confrontation.

This last week in my old team is making me more excited and antsy for my new job. It's a rather slow week compared to the earier this month. I spend most of my time just websurfing, occasionally watching Youtube videos when I think my boss is occupied, running few errands... And that's about it.
I will miss my co-workers though. They couldn't have been nicer. I hear that people in the new team are just as nice, and I hope that's true. Earning a good wage is one thing but to be tortured everyday at work and to come to resent my job would be a tragedy. I haven't had to hate anything so far. I hope that continues to be the case.

My superior asked me to write down all the chores I've had to do here so the team would have less trouble explaining to my replacement what s/he has to do. It wasn't that much, but I thought it was rather curious that after less than two months I was being promoted to a permanent employee. I honestly didn't see this coming. I don't have to tell you how relieved I am. I will be earning what people rookies earn at Samsung or LG. And by today's (and Korean's) standard, my yearly pay is above average.

My parents thought it was odd that I wasn't as happy as I should be.
I guess I am a little worried about plunging into a whole new career. What I'll be doing is along the line of what I hope to do in the near future and I can undoubtedly say there is no better job for me at this point, even if alternatives can pay better. I think I'll be happy once I know I can get the hang of it and gain some confidence. I'm pretty much a blank page right now and I don't really have much to show.
I've finally learned to be cautious; not to celebrate too early.

Actually, no. I'll be happy as hell when I receive my first pay as a paralegal. Then I'll be jumping around. Right now I can't really feel it in my skin that anything has changed.

Push (not by Sapphire)

The title is a reference to the novel and movie Precious, by the way.

Koreans love to PUSH. In many ways.

Not everyone does it, but a significant number of people push others at a subway station or when boarding the bus in the fear of not getting on that particular train/bus.
But here's the thing. It doesn't make much of a difference if you miss that train, because another will come along in less than five minutes. They are deliberately scheduled that way to alleviate the morning traffic.
As for the bus, there's really no point in pushing, because there's only so much space available and a person's pushing will not make a difference in terms of time and space. Oh yeah, maybe you can get to your destination about a second faster. But not even that in most cases.
Let's say that I feel extremely magnanimous one day and I can completely understand why the person behind me is pushing my back when s/he's trying to get on the train/bus. (For the sake of convenience I'll just call the person She. It's mostly women who do this anyway.) It's the morning. She may feel anxious that she might not make it to work on time. Okay. I can sympathize. I hate being late for work too.

But what about AFTER work?
I was really ticked off especially last night when a girl pushed me from behind when she was preparing to get off. I repeat. PREPARING. She wasn't getting off the bus that moment. The bus was still en route to the station, and we were getting up from our seats, just heading to the back door. Why the pushing? What can possibly justify her behaviour? I honestly wanted to ask her if that at all made a difference. But being the wuss that I am, I couldn't.

People tell me when I complain about this kind of stuff, why not say anything? Why not just tell them off at that moment?

My answer is quite simple. I only address my complaints directly to offenders if I think they could understand where I'm coming from. I didn't bother talking to any of the people who pushed me because it was obvious that they wouldn't hear a word that I say. They would probably say that I'm overreacting, preachy, self-righteous... every insulting adjective you can think of. I'll be lucky if they don't swear at me or hit me. (I read a newspaper article yesterday about a lady who got attacked by a teenager after telling her that her underwear was showing through her wide-spread legs.)

I wonder if all this is a side-effect of an overly collectivist society. We're all in one group. Hence as long as the majority of people -and I- are happy, it doesn't matter you suffer -- kind of attitude. Many Asians misunderstand that people who live in individualistic societies are egotistical. Jerks do exist, I admit, even in my beloved Vancouver. Jerks of all ethnicities. But mostly individualistic people respect others' freedom precisely because they value their own. They know that respect should be mutual. I'm beginning to think that in a collectivist society, ironically, this is not true.

A social animal

I am mostly content with the fact that I don't have any sibilings, but I think my being an only child worked as a handicap when it comes to my ability to socialize. I'm not apt in playing social games as it is, but I was way, way worse before. I worried my parents that I would always be a loner or go onto be a sociopath. I don't blame them, really. I would be concerned to if my hypothetical child cried all day at the kindergarten and calmed down only when she was alone. All through kindergarten and even early elementary school years I was too dependent on my mom. I felt vulnerable when she wasn't with me and I remember everything that reminded remotely of her --eating, singing, painting, among other things-- made me want to cry. It's about twenty years go but I can still remember how miserable I felt back then.

My parents still continue to be astounded by how much I've changed. Not just in contrast to my baby-/childhood, but in contrast to the turbulent time otherwise known as adolescence. I'm still essentially me; I just realized I'm not who I think I am.

Being an only child led me to believe that being the center of attention was normal. But my being that center doesn't just come from the fact that I'm an only child.

My mom is the eldest in her family: the oldest of five sisters. She was a typical eldest daughter, overachiever and whatnot. During the eighties when South Korea had the gall to say things like women belonged in the kitchen, my mom obtained a doctoral degree in psychology in one of the top universities in the country. You can imagine how proud my grandparents were. On a sidenote, My grandpa belongs to the so-called "elite" class; he graduated from Seoul National University (#1 in Korea, purportedly) and still practices dentistry and retains his fiery (but kind) temper as well as a quirky sense of humour. I'm so grateful that he didn't force his daughters to conform to what the Korean society believed as the "proper women's role" and let my mom pursue her dream. My mom wishes that she studied medicine, however, to continue her father's legacy... "Well you're a doctor too, ain't ya?" I responded. Just not the one that can remove wisdom teeth.

ANYWAYS. My grandma loved me to death when I was born because I was born to her eldest daughter, the one that always helped her parents and was (at that time) studying to be a professor. I can't list everything that my grandparents have done for me in this blog even though there's no limit to how much I write. My mom couldn't spend a lot of time with me when she was preparing her dissertation and whenever she needed a babysitter, I was at my grandparents'. Which was fine by me, because I had four aunts who, likewise, loved me to death. As a kid I was very close to my second and youngest aunts, and I still am. They are like sisters to me and I used to say that I would never see them again if they got married. (But when the youngest aunt was still single in her late thirties and me in junior high, I used to make fun of her for being single. Oh, the irony.) Even after my first aunt got married and gave birth to a daughter, my cousin, I was given overwhelming precedence over her. I was the more talkative, sociable, amiable (hard to believe, isn't it?) of the two. I still told my grandparents and aunts that they shouldn't judge my cousin so harshly in comparsion to me because I was very close to her. I'm just glad my cousin didn't harbour any resentment in regards to this and we are still quite close.

I realize this is getting too long, so I'll post my ultimate conclusion here: I was raised in a family that loved me so dearly. I am sure all the fortunate kids born to wholesome families can say the same. I think it's only natural that, before I went to join a non-family environment, I thought everybody loved me. That was the response I was used to. The only one I received from others. Being an only child excerbated my delusion. I had no siblings, so I didn't have to fight to earn my family's attention. In regards to cousins I always had the upper hand.

Even now my mom sarcastically tells me that my arrogance is at its pinnacle when I go to my grandparents'. I think that's somewhat true. But I'd like to argue that it's not my arrogance, but rather my self-esteem. Where else can I expect unconditional replenishment of hope and strength? Society measures me by my grades, test scores, and body. I may be a failure to some because I didn't get into law school on my first attempt, but I can always count on my grandparents and aunts to think that I'm the greatest.

So yes. I confess that I'm spoiled.

Homesick

I didin't know what was happening to me until this morning. I'm homesick.

Even though Seoul isn't as bad as I thought and my co-workers are great, they can't make up for the fact that I'm living in a city that I'm not fond of, and that my residence in Korea is a lingering proof that I failed to get into law school. It's not like I'm always wallowing around in self-pity/-hate; but I am ashamed. I wouldn't probably fare better in Vancouver. Probably just as depressed and bored. But I'd be there, at least. At my true home.
I think I'll feel better towards the end of the year when I'm fully used to living in Seoul once again, and learn to harbour my passion for law until I try again.

 Regardless. I miss Vancouver.

The weather in Seoul is beginning to resemble the Vancouverite fall, save the rain. So if you really think about it I'm living what most Vancouverites want; a cool autumn weather without rain. I'm lucky enough to live in a suburb so I can enjoy something that is vaguely reminiscent of crisp morning air. I doubt a person can afford such a luxury in the metropolitan Seoul. This city needs the world's biggest air conditioner. And a water purifier.
I miss the fall session in UBC where maple trees turn yellow, orange, and red, and I could wear my favourite red muffler and walk around like I'm a Parisienne. I miss even the rain -- the rain that I don't have to fear for acidity or other pollutants. I miss how I saw different kinds of faces every day, listened to people speaking in dozen different languages, carried on conversations that don't involve celebrities or horrible in-laws.

Yesterday when I was waiting for the bus home after work, I was again gripped by the urge to disappear. Not just running away, but ceasing to exist. This is not to say I want to kill myself. The truth is far from it. I just wish I could be invisible (albeit I am already to a certain degree), free from expectations and pressures. I guess that does constitute some form of running away. I had waited all my life to "grow up" but I don't think I ever did. I'm still me. The worst part of my life is that I can never run away from myself.

It's not fun to be this melodramatic. I don't enjoy it.

Dealing with loneliness

One of the most difficult things -but rather trivial- is to admit that one is lonely. I don't have any reservation towards doing so right now. Sometimes I'm so lonely that I'm miserable.

It's a different kind of loneliness in the sense that it doesn't come from ostracization. I'm getting alone very well with my co-workers and they welcome me into their little get-togethers.
The problem is that these days I don't feel like joining them at all. Not because they're awful or boring. I just want to be alone but at the same time painfully lonely.

After some poitnless introspection I concluded that it is because I don't have many "friends". I have great co-workers but they're not my friends. I guess things could be different if I were working in Vancouver, or any other Canadian city for that matter. Age and social backgrounds tend to matter less in Canada than in Korea. All of my colleagues are women, most of whom are married. Their conversation topics usually dwell in marriage, cooking, dealing with in-laws and such, and while I'm fine with listening to them, I don't particularly choose to join in. I miss the good ol' days when I spent hours talking about race and identity issues. I feel like my mind is malnourished. I'm not trying to say that they're uneducated or anything. They're just not interested in talking about that kind of stuff.  Race isn't exactly an issue that pertains to Korea. Even if they were interested, life here is hectic as it is. I guess the type of conversations I enjoy seem tiring to most.
Besides, they're my co-workers. There's a limit to what we can talk about. I won't be able to openly discuss office affairs lest one of them report to my boss.

I've been meaning to talk to my friends in Vancouver for some time now but I'm a bit afraid of calling them up. I know I'll just spend hours bitching about every little thing that isn't to my satisfaction. We all have our problems. That's why I have this blog: to complain. I want to spare my friends the boredom and frustration.

Even if I wanted to make new friends I don't know how to go about it. I barely have time for the few that I'm close to, and during the weekend I'm too exhausted to participate in any kind of social occasions with due enthusiasm.

I'll probably stop thinking about this once I'm smothered by an avalanche of work like before. My mind should be occupied at all times; otherwise it will go off wondering about things that bear no practical value, and I plunge into a depth of despair and depression from which I have difficulty escaping.

My usual day routine

AM

6:10 - the first alarm rings. Snooze.
6:15 - it rings for the second time. Snooze.
6:20 - the second alarm rings. Turned off. Get up and go take a shower.
6:35 - out of the shower. Dry hair. Put on make up. Get dressed.
7:10 - eat breakfast. Usually bread, sometimes cereal.
7:30 - out of the apartment. Walk towards the bus station.
If lucky, get on the bus by 7:45 and get to Gangnam subway station by 8:30.
If not, get on the bus by 7:50 and arrive at the same station by 8:45.
Switch to Subway Line 2 and get off at Samsung World Trade Centre. Walk towards the office.
8:40-:50 - arrive at the office. Go through the fingerprint scanner to gain access.
9:00 - go up to the mailroom and get five kinds of newspaper (pre-designated).

PM

12:00-1:00 - lunch.
6:00 - off work.
6:20 - get on the bus home.
7:30 - home.
7:45 - dinner.
8:15 - catch up on the "fun" side of life.
10:30 - go to bed.

REPEAT four more times.

* WEEKEND *

SLEEP.

How should I feel about this?

A friend that hasn't spoken to you for several years suddenly contacts you, and says she needs you for something. Are you glad that she asked for help (i.e. came to you for help), or are you offended that she's just talking to you now that she needs help?

As for me, I felt both. One after the other. At first I was happy to help, but then I slowly came to realization she contacted me just because I could help her. Nothing more.

Frankly I don't know how I should feel about this. I'm her friend. I was happy to help, as I should be. But now that she isn't speaking to me again I feel like I've been taken advantage of. I don't expect her to email me every day like I live right beside her; a little bit of update would suffice just fine.
I don't think she would've hurt my feelings as much had she not talked to me like my internship didn't mean much.

I had felt like this when I was in high school. I was so happy to help ESL students (for reasons I must admit not purely altruistic) but I soon realized that they were just using me. I guess I kind of asked for it.

It's funny that I should still fall for this kind of things even at this age. My naivete sickens me sometimes.

Goodbye Mr. Jobs

I thought it was a bad joke. I just couldn't believe it.
I had thought that his battle with cancer was over and this news just caught me off guard.
And I'm one of those few people who hated iPhones, refused to buy one, and most of all thought Steve Jobs as an absolute douche. A very charismatic, creative genius, but tad egostistical. (But since arrogance has to be earned, I suppose his attitude is rightfully earned.)

I almost feel like I lost a friend. Well, maybe not a friend, because but someone that was close to me.
Though I had my issues with the iPhone I bought the iPod classic and Mac Pro. I didn't like how he came across as a self-absorbed jerk, but I had to admit that he was ahead of time --and All THE FREAKIN' TIME-- and thought of stuff that no one else had, and probably ever would.

I feel curiously pained. I had felt like this when Heath Ledger died because I grew up watching his movies ("grew up" might be a strong phrase, but still). Similarly Apple products, whether I'm willing to admit it or not, have constituted a big part of my life. The mind behind those things is now gone.

Hope you're in a better place now, Mr. Jobs.

I fear that Mr. Jobs took all his glories with him and Apple will never re-live the Golden Age. I hope my worries are unfounded and Apple is much more than what I perceive it to be.

You see how funny this is; an essentially jobless twenty-something year old single girl worrying about a corporation that's worth multibillion (trillion?).

Anyways.

RIP Steve Jobs. You will be missed.

Online Shopping in Korea (2)

I've been way too click-happy lately. When I don't have anything to do at work --and after reading pretty much every piece of interesting news made available online-- I tend to browse in online shopping malls. Most of the time I just add a bunch of items to my wish list, but every once in a while... my desire trumphs my reason. Which is just another way of saying it happens pretty much all the time.

So far my experience has been very pleasant. A popular search engine/community website Naver has a system called "Checkout," which allows you to shop without having to make new accounts for individual websites. Of course not all shopping malls do this and you can only use the Checkout option for participating ones. Convenience only adds more to the ease with which I blithely buy things. Naver Checkout, in that sense, is pure evil. You barely feel anything when you click "Complete Purchase." It is as though you're just clicking any other button.

The process of paying is much more complicated than the North American counterpart. South Korea has seen numerous cases of identity and credit card number thefts, and people take extra caution in buying things.
First, you must have a valid credit card or a bank account. South Korean malls don't accept Paypal. If you choose to pay with your credit card, you have to open up a mini-account with your card detail (expiry date, security number, etc). Then you register your cellphone number with which you'll receive "Confirmation Number". For each transaction you receive a confirmation number via SMS, and you have to punch in the numbers you were given to confirm that it is indeed you that's making the purchase.
I have never paid through my bank account, but the mechanism is quite simple. You send money to the seller's bank account directly. A small drawback of this method is that you will not get a receipt right away, and that if the person who's paying the money isn't the person registered online, there may be confusion and there will be further delay.

Those who know me well will know that I have extensive experience in shopping online. Luckily the sizes I pick fit me well, and especially in Korea where most girls are stick-figure skinny and salespeople are pushy and nosy, online shopping malls are a viable alternative.

Being a small country South Korea prides itself in fast delivery. (And if you ever get to see how delivery people drive in Korea, you'll understand why it is so fast, and why so many people get hurt in car accidents in this country.) In contrast to the one to two week(s) wait in Canada, most of the time I get my parcels within the same week.
These days it seems to be the peak season in delivery because there was a holiday and people are just getting back to work. But it's taking longer than usual to receive my items. I don't exactly care as long as the wait is reasonable (I once had to wait for over a month so I don't think anything can top that).

Last week I received a phone call from an unknown number. It turned out to be one of the websites I shopped at, and the person in charge apologized for the delay and updated me in regards to the order process. I wasn't getting antsy at all (until he called...) but regardless it was good to know that they cared enough to call. Last night I got another call from another shopping mall but I had missed it, and they left a text message with an apology.
The first seller contacted me twice, and when he called for the second time he confessed that one of the clothes I ordered was revealed to be a faulty product. I was more impressed than mad; they could've given me the crappy one and just shrug it off.

This is something that I never experienced in Canada. I guess a lot of people just brush over it since the country is just too darn big and it takes so much time to deliver things. In particular the West Coast is infamous for its lax attitude (though I have some objections to this stereotype).
I was often upset upon seeing how people were so impolite and inconsiderate, but after receiving these calls my faith in salespeople has been somewhat restored. Respect should be given mutually; customers should treat sellers with due courtesy and vice versa. I'm getting a bit more anxious about the clothes I ordered, but knowing that the sellers are inspecting their merchandise closely and trying to abide by some standard is good enough for me.

Or am I being too lenient? I can never tell.

Re-evaluation

After last week's tragic realization/disillusionment, I assessed the situation again.

I'm still adamant on the fact that I'm not here to make friends. It's important to maintain amicable relationships with those I work with, but it's not essential to actually develop friendship. -- which is good because I've come to be comfortable with solitude. I would gladly accept invitations from others, but I am not desperate for companionship.

My dad, being the chauvinistic boss that he once was, had the courtesy to tell me that office ladies are a vicious sort. As much as I hate him for saying it, I can't help but admit that women (especially Asian women) strive to establish a stable hierarchy. Dad told me that if you put female candidates (for a secretarial job) in one room and leave them alone for ten minutes, they will figure out who's the oldest/youngest and act according to their place.

I have some experience in this rigid system and I learned it the hard way that the best way of self-preservation is to abide by this (perhaps ridiculous) hierarchy. My parents are always worried that I might act in a way that would isolate others. I'm always opinionated and headstrong when I'm with them, so it's understandable. What they don't realize is that I've changed. I'm no longer a loner that would rather die than to give up my principles. (And I should disclaim that those principles weren't always the right ones.) My family and friends perceive me as an elitist --probably because my parents are too-- and I admit that is who I've been. I fancied myself to be above certain things.

Since I've come to Korea -- nay, since I graduated, I decided that I'm only an instrument until I rise to a certain status. I am here to be used. And I'm fine with that.

I've always been careful with how I do things and what I say. I always say too much and regret it afterwards, so I've been paying extra attention to it. I don't think I've ever offended anyone since I got here.

The reason that my co-worker (the "nice one") told me about the others was that she had been hurt. She didn't have to tell me. I speculate that she wanted to show me that people weren't as nice as they seemed. She couldn't stand the fact that I thought well of them, because they were the same people who rejected her. After one and a half year she still didn't have someone she could confide in. I was that person. I was her ally, and she was afraid that I might turn against her.

I would have been her ally no matter what ... had she not told me.
Her plan just backfired.

I am still grateful that she was a good friend to me. But I will never be able to trust her as I did before.

She thought I was just a rookie that could be easily manipulated. She thought wrong.
I survived high school and a house full of teenagers. I exaggerate, but the amount of conspiracies and psychological warfare I had to endure was comparable to those in Versailles.

You picked the wrong person to mess with, lady.