The day after yesterday.
Saturday, 11/10/01 - 6:44 p.m..

I'll make sure to write this down:
on november 9th, 2001, yours truly tried to kill herself with a pillow.
I was desperate. I was brokenhearted. I was disappointed. I was hurt....I had just read about existentialism. Plus, as a general culture factor, I know that little babies die suffocated in their cribs. Why not doing the same to myself?

Ok, this is how I went: after I wrote last night's entry, I went to bed. I cried, I silently howled. For almost 3 hours straight. I'd never cried that way. I'd never felt so miserable. I thought of every bad thing. Then I realized I was holding my pillow. I put it on my face. And started pressing.

But when I was running out of air, I thought of what would happen the next day: mom would knock on my door, then got in, after having no reply...and she'd scream and call everybody. They'd cried. How would they explain the little kids (nephiews & niece) that her aunt killed herself? That's why I stopped. They don't deserve that pain. I know they love me so much. I love them so fuckin' much. So I took the pillow off my face and kept crying until I calmed myself down and fell asleep. Yet I kept asking God that he'd let me die that night. On the other hand, there was this little voice that kept saying: all the things you do, come back to you, and you'll see the results tomorrow.

When I woke up, I was feeling something heavy in my chest. And cried some more. So much more. I arrived at school an no one noticed I was down. I took the exams. I got this month's grades. 7 and up, as usual. But I didn't get happy. I was just indifferent. "Results"? not a damn thing. Steven Tyler was wrong. Not all the things you do come back to you. Specially when those things are good. I guess karma does not apply to me in a positive way.

And like I said yesterday, the guy and I are through. He won't call unless he's in the mood for that. But I won't be. So he can fuck himself (he already does it, anyway).

Guess it's all meant to be
for love to cause me misery...
.
That's the song I've been listening in my head since yesterday. It's Pink's Misery. I didn't like her before. But she's definitely not a teeny-bopper singer (plus, the song features Steven Tyler and Richie Sambora). I like her raspy voice. I'll fuck up my throat so it'll sound the same as hers and I'll finally become a rock star so I can scream my pain...if you hold your emotions in, they'll all come out sideways and you'll become a rock star. It's been said that she's the female Steven Tyler. Dammit, she beat me to it.

*sigh*...well, I got home and felt a bit better, since at least I have no more homework or exams. And I'm 97.675% sure that I'll pass this year. I started cleaning up all the school trash I had. Meanwhile, I was listening to my Pump tape. Finally Celina gave it back to me. And I started feeling a bit excited. Two weeks away from my big trip to Houston. I think I really need to fly away from here. From everybody. Although...part of me doesn't want to go. I wasn't here for the holidays last year. Well, I guess it's nostalgia. When I was little, I couldn't understand why my dad cried and got sad on christmas. Now I do understand him. I don't know if we both get sad for the same reason though.

I was thinking whether I should send a letter to Veronica and Carmen when I'm gone. I mean, explaining it all. How they fucked me up and stuff. I'm gonna miss talking to the guy. I know he's not gonna miss me. That hurts.

I watched Billy Elliot this afternoon. I really liked it. It made me feel like being like him. I've always wanted to run and jump like he does. With no specific movements, just letting it flow. Billy reminds me a lot of my nephiew, Renan. He's that way. Always dancing around, marching, humming...it made me want to be with him as soon as possible. I might look a little stupid doing that but, fuck, like Steven said you gotta let the kid out. Two more weeks.

In the meantime, I'm still so fuckin' hurt. I've been wanting to cry the whole day. Yes...and no. I don't want to have another breakdown like last night, so I just try to keep myself busy. It'd be a whole lot easier if I had someone who'd support me, if I wasn't alone. I realize that killing yourself makes no sense. Well, right now, it does for me. It's not one hell of a reason, but it's a bit cruel. Anyway, I love my family too much to make them suffer. Having someone in your family that kills herself and you don't know why makes you feel guilty. Fuck, just the fact that someone kills himself it's depressing. My family is really special. I'd die for them. But in this case, I'm living for them. They don't know it, but they've helped me a lot these last 24 hours.

I keep listening to Misery. It does make me feel miserable. I know, it sounds masochist, but I have to let all these depressing feelings out, one way or another. I'll wear them out. Who knows, I might get one or ten lessons out of this whole crappy situation. But not this week. I feel too damned miserable.

Ok...I was gonna talk about what would have happened if I had suffocated myself but I'll do that other day when I have nothing to talk about. One thing's for sure, I'm not killing myself as long as I have my family. And since my family is always with me (one way or another), that'll never happen. Life is.....life. Death is just part of it, but like there's a time to be a kid and a time to be a teenager, there's time to live and time to die. You can't rush things up. If you're a kid and are too worried about never growing up and just try to grow up without enjoying the moment, you're wasting your childhood. And it'll never be back. That's pretty much what happens with life and death. There's a time for everything, no matter whether we're ready to face it or not.

Uh....ok, bye.

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