The story beyond the *.
Friday, 11/08/02 - 7:05 pm.

This little bone of my nose has been hurting since last night. Bitch.

Sometimes my daddy is a little bitch.

My mom found my broken mirror last night (the mirror I once grabbed, tossed at the wall, broke in pieces and cut myself with them for the first time -I'm too lazy to look for that entry-). I told her some excuse and she only said I should be more careful. Today she almost discovers my scars. When I was laying on my bed, we were talking and she tenderly slid her hands down my arm (have I told you how loving and caring my mommy is?). I felt my soul leaving my body cowardly. But no, my un-rolled sleeves (I always roll them up but given the situation...) saved me. I almost had a heart attack.

Well, I've been on an awful emotional rollercoaster since yesterday. I still don't entirely swallow the fact that I am not going back to school. It's weird. Yesterday in its entirity was weird. Have in mind that such "event" had never happened to me. It still feels weird. But it's ok. I'm happy. Sort of. But sort of happy it's better than unhappy.

I suppose I should start working my way up, now that I already hit bottom. Hi, I'm gonna be happy again. But not yet. I mean, I will...but not exactly tomorrow.

I talked to Cel last night. I told her how I feel about Denver. How confusing he is, one day he ignores me and the next day he acts like I'm his most precious treasure. I almost cried in front of the computer while typing. She said he's very cute...but a jerk nonetheless. Fuck him. I told her I wish. And I am aware that's a double-sense answer.

He came online later. He told me was worried about me and my scars. It was a long conversation about it, until I sent him the pics of self-mutilators and their sliced arms. I really don't want to remember what I saw on your arm today.... So we changed subject. Understood "we changed subject" as "we stopped talking". Because then it was the same old...I'd say something and he wouldn't reply. Just like I told Cel: at one second he cares so much about me, the next second I just don't exist.

I went to bed and cried desperately for maybe 20 minutes. Then I remembered Pablo...maybe he was crying, too. Yesterday he told me he would. When we were hugging on the basketball court, I jumped on him and wrapped my legs around him. I'm sure it looked like the Armageddon scene when Liv kisses Ben good-bye. DOn't get me wrong, I don't have a crush on him. I love him because he's my brother, he's the one that makes me feel I'm not alone. He said he'd cry at night, because he hates crying in public, specially when everybody is. I wondered if he was crying at the same time as I was.

In spite of him, I don't think I'd felt so alone like last night in years. I felt alone. No way out. Alone. No way out. Alone. No way out. Alone. No way out. Alone. No way out. It was horrible.

Like I've said before, there's nothing like going to bed with a broken heart. So many things I wanted to tell him, but it was just useless. I couldn't sleep. Thinking of all the things I wanted to tell him. To distract myself, I noticed myself to sleep, so to speak, because I kept noticing every movement of my eyes as they were closing themselves, against my will....as I felt I was starting to drift away.

But then...I violently ripped myself off my REM. All the words started flowing, and I wanted to write. Not only to think. My voices kept telling me I wouldn't remember half of my words in the morning...and I wouldn't be able to say them to him unless I wrote him an e-mail. I ripped a blank page off any given notebook, grabbed a pen and let it flow. I fell asleep at 1:45 am.

In the morning, I felt a bit better. And I kept wondering if I should send him the letter.

Meanwhile, I got a call from Art. He said I sounded sad. He asked me if they (him and Cel) could come over and I said no. He asked why, I said I don't know. He asked if Javier, my nephew (they're very attached to him and viceversa), would be coming over. I said no.

WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU SAYING? WAKE THE FUCK UP!.

Shit.

I apologized to him a hundred times, and told him, begged him, that yes, it'd be great if they came over, and yes, Javier was coming. And apologized to him again, he said it was ok. That I sounded distant and sad, that he understood I was definitely thinking of something else. I told him I was in some kind of lapsus dumbus, and that I was very sorry for saying no, that I didn't mean it. That nothing would make me feel better than having them both over. I surely needed them.

I don't know what I was thinking.

They didn't come. Neither Javier did. I'm sure it wasn't because I said no, Art understood. I have to talk to any of them.

Anyway, later on, I turned on the computer and e-mailed him the letter. I wasn't scared. I felt I had so little to lose that it didn't even matter.

When I checked my e-mail in the afternoon, his reply was waiting for me in the inbox. Now that's when I felt some kind of fear...I was scared. Of whatever he'd say....

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