Lonely, wanting. Empty.
Thursday, 11/30/06 - 10:00 pm.

For a good part of the day, I thought today was a good one. It was the last day of class this semester. I had the final CommPsych exposition, and my friends and I got together before it. For no reason, actually, since I was the one who was speaking, along with Michelle. We did have a great time.

But I got very, very upset in the middle of the exposition, because Victoria was supposed to be in charge of the slideshow. A few times, instead of doing her thing, she was taking pictures of me and missing the cue to change. I'd have to stand there waiting, until I'd look at her and realize she was looking at the camera with Victor. Thanks a fucking lot.

I tried to calm myself down afterwards. After all, there was no real harm done, and it was a matter of half-a-second. But I guess this was more the tip of the iceberg to me. I've often felt alone during our work in teams, because I'm the one making all the efforts. Out of my four friends, I feel the closest to Victoria. Just this morning, she called me because she felt like talking, and I liked that. We spoke for 40 minutes, and it was fun.

But anyway, it's the same. When it comes to getting serious, I never know when I can or can't trust these guys. I know I'll always be the one receiving everybody else's part of the report, and I'll have to be the one who puts it together -aside from doing my part-, and fills in the gaps, and makes sure everything fits, and has to do last minute research because there's always something missing. And I'm tired of that.

I suppose I'd love to switch teams. But I can't, because it may seem like it's a personal matter. I already wrote this, one or two entries ago: I have nothing against them. They're the best when you want to get cheered up, and share stories, and laugh...but I hate the way we work. I see the rest of the groups, their members get together and work together; sometimes they split parts like we do, but they also take the time to think collectively. I rarely have that, and when I do, it's rushed, because we're getting together the day before (and don't finish, because conversations start...and here I come again, getting to bed in the morning, trying to finish it).

So I guess it was because of this that I suddenly got a little...sad. Down. I don't know. I was feeling lonely, with no one to turn. And then I started to think of Joe, because I talked to him last night and dear God I can't believe how strongly I feel for him, etc. He was talking about how we used to write to each other, two years ago, when I was in Houston. Everyday. It's a connection I don't have with Joseph. More abstract,I can talk to him about more things; he understands me more in many aspects. I make strange jokes, but he gets them and throws them back. Joseph just makes a dead face and says something along the lines of his intelligent girlfriend puzzling him with her language.

But I digress. I was in class thinking of all this. But mostly about my friends. Suddenly my heart started beating very fast, although I wasn't thinking of anything, and I was quite calm, nearly comatose, quasidepressed; it was beating like when I finish exercising (not that I exercise often lately). Fast, very fast. After 10 minutes, I had an urge to gasp repeatedly, because I was running out of air. Though that's more common in me. But I found the beating strange.

W -Psychological Treatment professor- asked me after class if I was tired. I'd have loved to tell him how I was feeling, but I was surrounded by people who were leaving the classroom, and I wasn't going to spill my guts there. I appreciated that he noticed. He's very good, actually...of course he is, he's a clinical psychologist. He knows every one of his students, and notices the smallest details. It's scary of he studies you; he picks up your every move (once we were talking, he asked something, and before I replied, he mentioned what my eyes were saying; he was right). Which is probably why a lot of people come up to him to talk. I myself am drawn to do it, but I don't want to be a cliche.

I'd been wanting to ask him if he needs an instructor. But Victoria told me this morning, on the phone, that he'd asked her, already. I'll have to admit I got jealous. Not mad, or anything. Victoria is a hard worker (except under the influence of the rest of my gang; Victor, especially), and she's always willing to take chances. But still. I guess I wanted to be thought of by him, for a job that I really enjoy; but I wasn't the one he thought of. Call it transference, or blame it on the crush I had on him when I was 11.

Yesterday I skipped class to go ask him some questions about last class. He asked me why I didn't ask them in class. He found strange the fact that I, of all people, would be skipping class, to ask questions to a professor. I said I'm very selective about the classes I do this with, and it's a habit I've had since high school (good ole' Fidel and our coffee breaks, during my english hour). He's noticed I'm very interested in clinical psychology. I try to read him the way he reads me, so I was prepared to dodge some questions, like the one about skipping class. It's simply, say, delightful, talking to him. He's a wonderful person to have long conversations with.

Oh, well. I've talked a lot. I feel deeply lonely. I have a final tomorrow.

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