Sunday, 01/18/04 - 10:01 pm.
Well...I'm back. I left Houston, I'm back in my home country. I've been crying all day, and I have a headache.
I was a little harsh on the kids this morning, I pissed them off. Thank God everything cooled off quickly. Rebeca, my niece, gave me a short letter and gave me the prize she got at Chuck E. Cheese's last night (it seems it happened a month ago). I'm going to start crying again.
I cried over the cereal. I cried for my brother Alan, he's got a toothache that made him cry yesterday (and made ME cry, too, I was so scared for him). He gave me two packs of Oreo snacks for the flight, and that made me cry. He's this guy that takes care of every little detail. Anyway, it's useless to start listing all the things I was crying for.
The flight was uneventful. We met some guy to Guatemala, and it amazed how polite my nephew Javier was. We kind of talked, and we said goodbye when we arrived to the airport. What a nice guy. It's nice, meeting a stranger, a fellow tourist.
I came home. Everybody was happy, they gave me my birthday present, I gave them the souvenirs. It feels so empty, though, and now it feels like all things I wrote about for the past month never happened, like I just made them up, or is a memory of a movie I caught on TV.
I feel like crying and yelling "I WANT TO GO BACK!!!", but it's useless. I feel impotent and claustrophobic. The streets are so small, the people are so rude, the weather is too hot.
My dad asks me "you left them all sad, didn't you?". But I bet he never thought of me being sad about leaving. It seems nobody has had the slightlest thought of me being sad, except for the kids themselves. I broke down in the lounge, while waiting to aboard. My nephew just tapped me on my head and quoted Yellow Submarine: "I don't know, you're just a sentimentalist". He replaced "Ringo" with "you", that is. He did a bit of crying himself, though.
I don't know what else to say. I mean, I do, but I'm crying already, and if my dad sees me, he'll start saying how's that possible, that I already had my time in Houston and that I should just be thankful for the opportunity instead of being ungrateful and lamenting. Oh, my bad.
I was happy over there. I didn't have to get in touch with anybody. I was happy alone, but I wasn't in some comfortable bubble. I was actually being helpful, too. I was near my kids, my nephew and niece, fulfilling one another in some way. My brother Renan and his wife Denise, they need me, and they're so kind. My brother Alan, he amazes me, and it breaks my heart to think he's going to live alone.
This computer, this keyboard, is too weird for me now. And the internet is awful, you'd think cable would be better than what it is right now. The TV, the fuckin' TV is driving me fuckin' mad, my dad HAS TO watch it every fuckin' night, all turned up.
This place in general is so strange to me now, forcing tasks down my throat. I have come back to something I could pretty much give up.
"Don't smile because it happened, cry because it's over". I know, it's a little negative...but I can't help doing so.
I'm so sick of this, I want to go back. Please. I'm crying, I've been crying ALL day, it's even ridiculous. But there's not much more to do.
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