Monday, 02/10/03 - 6:50 pm.
Victor is teaching me to play the guitar. Well, kind of. I'm learning on my own, but whenever I'm in doubt, he's the one I ask.
I can play the first four notes of The Beatles' And I Love Her and the first riff of Aerosmith's Last Child.
I feel very good at the UCA. Not exactly at the UCA, but mostly when I'm with my friends. Those five people that I get along with. We have a somwhat special bond now. I have a slight feeling the rest of the class hates us...maybe hate is too strong...let's say they're a bit hostile when it comes to certain activites, like discussing in group and expressing our points of view.
We're the nerds. The dorks. The outcasts. But that's ok. I love those kids. I finally feel I belong to a gang. We're all going to have ice cream for Valentine's Day. Angie was writing Valentine's note for all of us, with messages like "love sucks". We both are single, but I have to admit I take it with a grain of stoicism.
So that's the happy part of my life right now. I have a gang, I have a group to fit in, without losing my individuality. I have a gang that's good for hanging out as well for team-working.
***
The sad part? My fingers hurt. Yesterday I hit my elbow and I lost control of two of my fingers. They wouldn't move. I got scared. I hit it very hard, it felt like my entire arm fell asleep. I think my elbow cracks now. Something is tickling me inside of my left arm.
This week I'll go to the UCA at 10 am. Just for kicks, really. Today I saw Carlos and Maria (they study and work there) at the cafeteria. And it was great, I stayed with him for a while.
There's another reason why my arm hurts. I cut today. 7 slashes. I needed blood for the message in my notebook (the notebook I write in whenever I feel depressed or I have cut). You know, the message that reads: "I hate my friends". Now it says: "i HatE /". I wore a bandage around my arm, but that's only because I don't want the wound to be infected. Go figure.
I saw D today. It was awful. I was with Veronica (they were on recess) and she pointed that D was approaching, alone. His group of friends is kind of pushing him aside. He said hello and I asked him if something was wrong (he seemed to come from a funeral). He said no. He asked me if I had see "them" (his friends). I showed him where they were. "Did they leave you?", I asked. He answered no, because in the first place, he wasn't even with them.
We walked to the cafeteria, and I decided to stay away. I don't like that group. They can only talk about sex. Everything has double-sense and sexual innuendo. I enjoy that kind of conversations here and there, but it gets old after a while. They're not very mature when it comes to that.
He stayed with them, and then just went away. He just tapped my head, didn't even bother to look at me. Just walked me by and tapped my head. I was somewhat disappointed, but I was hoping I'd see him at noon.
I did and I did not. He arrived where Irene and I were, asking "have you seen them?". He showed us the pics of Norman and Fo. We said no, and he walked away. Then he came back with them, but sat so far away from my table. And stayed there for a while with his friends, until they left together. He never turned his head to where I was. He didn't noticed that my cuts and the bandage were -at least in part- for and because of him.
It might sound a little self-centered, and kind of exhibitionist..."he doesn't look at me". But that's not it. I'm just disappointed to see he doesn't give a fuck about me. He doesn't give a damn fuck about me.
As I saw them leaving, I felt the urge to run up to him. Just to say "don't go". Of course, I just stared at them, feeling like I was being punched with a spike glove inside. I almost cried. I almost cut. But there were two of my friends. And I told them I got my arm slashed by thorns.