- Me: Eh. In documentaries, everything is all fun until someone loses an eye: http://www.tylerandjacks.com
- Him: I like that site.
- Me: I am Jack's bloody knuckles. We *heart* blood.
- Him: I have blood. Do you want some? Like yesterday?
- Me: Ok.
- Him: I did that (making me punch his face) because I was trying to apologize to you because...I know I have been a jerk to you and I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get away from you. I don't know when it happened, but I'm really sorry.
- Me: don't worry. Stuff happens, boy.
- Him: I deserve to get my ass kicked. I know (stuff happens) but I never recognized it was happening.
- Me: That's how soccer is, son. No hard feelings.
- Him: Ok....but when I see you everyday in the hallway, I get the feeling I fucked up our friendship.
- Me: No...I just sometimes wondered if I had done something to you.
- Him: I tried to talk to you, or write you, but I was afraid. I don't know why, but I was.
- Me: it doesn't matter. You can still talk to me.
- Him: bite you?
- Me: bite me.
- Him: but I'm really sorry.
- Me: don't be.
- Him: it was just a stupid mistake and a bad idea.
- Me: forget it. Be happy.
- Him: When I saw you crying I thought that I should be there but I wasn't, because I was afraid. But I meant to do it.
- Me: when did you see me cry?
- Him: I don't know if you were really crying or what...
- Me: I cried.
- Him:...it was when you were hugging Celina...
- Me: Oh, yeah...
- Him: In the middle of the hallway, on the first 15 minute recess.
- Me: Thanks for noticing. It's nothing, you know we all have issues.
- Him: with the voices?
- Me: Partly, yeah. There are two things you can always put the blame on, and those are the voices in your head and the system.

And the conversation went onto shallow subjects.

When we finished, I went to my bedroom. And I thought. For some bizarre reason, I got my friend back. I didn't care if his words involved any romantic feeling, the point is I have my friend back.

For the first time in ages, my life was complete, and I truly dare to say "I'm so fuckin' happy". I couldn't sleep. But not only because I got him back...in my heart I had the weigh of all the things I didn't say to him, and the weigh of a funny feeling, stronger than the one for Rene in 9th grade and deeper than the one for the guy in junior high.

I rewinded everything, to the day he started ignoring me. I remember it was thursday. A lot of things from that period look surreal and illogical to me now. Behaviors that really don't make sense, unless you justify them with the fact that I was hurt, yet I still loved him.

It was just like the old times, when we were up late at night, and we were each other's only contact online, when our conversation was the only window open in my screen. Saying good-bye with his dumb figures and messages like "I <3 U" made out of emoticons. Then me, going to bed, not able to sleep, because I was thinking of him.

All that happened last night. I wasn't entirely happy, because part of me it's still very hurt, and I wanted to tell him how I really feel. But at least, I know I can have the hope that on monday, he'll walk up to me with his arms wide open, just for me. Maybe it won't happen. But it's a real hope, not just a delusion to deny reality, or a fake reason to go through the day.

I thought of how many times I was given my grades and how good they were. How elegant it was the congratulations, you're an outstanding student! letter I'd just been given. And how empty I'd feel on my way to the parking lot, with my high-score intelligence in my hand, because he'd just walked away on the opposite direction, and he didn't even look at me.

- Me: I feel like a loser. It looks as if I'm trying to hide to myself my frustration by getting the highest grades.
- Voice: Oh, but you are a loser. Not only it does *look* like it, that's the way things really are.

Yesterday, I got my grades. The same old "outstanding" grades that make my parental units (and why not, myself, too) proud of. But when I was falling asleep, I didn't feel like a loser.

Then I woke up. I was woken up to one question coming from the back of my head: is it friday today?. I wasn't sure. It was 5:00 am. I never wake up at that time on weekends, it's my biological clock. So I tried to get myself back on track of time.

It's saturday because of... this, and this, and this. And doing the math, it was saturday indeed. Today.

I stayed awake for an hour and a half. Thinking of him. Looking out the window.

- Simeon: look, girl...it's december!!!.
- Yes, Simeon. It is december.

And I can't wait until monday.

This morning, I have it all. The good grades, the december feeling only the windy october clear sky can give you and...him. My friend. And all those things I want to say, and all those hours that have yet to come that I want to stop.

Lately, I've been having this thought...and I'm pretty sure I've read it in at least one book (One Hundred Years Of Solitude comes to my mind).

It's that all of the things that happened, happened for a reason...and said reason is that moment. All the things you went through, good or bad, brought you to THE moment. From the second existence itself started to exist, going through the Begginings all religions tell you about, through the moment your ancestors arrived to the land in which centuries later your grandparents were born and then you were born, and your parents decided you should go this school and after 10 years of being in the same place, you met him and discovered he'd been in the same place as you for 2 years, and then you quietly put your heart in his hands and he broke it and that was the last thing you needed so you cut yourself and you suffered for months, to the night you found him online and decided to log out because you didn't want to talk to him to avoid the pain of hating for not being able to love, but he talked to you first, and you casually mentioned blood because a long time ago you saw a movie that left a mark in your life and you'd just found a website about it that had the word blood, until he says: I know I have been a jerk to you and I'm sorry. "I still love you".

And that's the moment when everything just...clicks.

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