Monday, 06/28/04 - 10:15 pm.
I started to literally pull out my hair this morning, when Carmen called me to say she'd come over in twenty minutes. No, no, don't come, leave me alone! I HAVE TO READ, I HAVE A LOT TO READ, I HAVE FINALS STARTING THIS WEEK, YOU BITCH, FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU, FUCKYOUFUCK!!!. Oh, but she came.
She was actually coming to give me the news: she's been accepted at my university, and will start psychology next semester (long story short: her health won't let her endure medicine school). I'm a little...annoyed, to say the least, because I really, really have to be in the mood to be with her, and I never am. She's not a good listener most of the times, and always has this way of...I don't know, like making me feel I know nothing, or I'm like everybody else and she's unique. So I don't bother talking, I just listen to her (her stories, hard to believe they're completely true, but entertaining).
Sometimes I'd like to say to her: yeah, me too, or I know what you mean...I do, actually, but she just doesn't pay attention to me, SHE DOESN'T FUCKING LISTEN!!! And I feel miserable, because she ends up thinking "she has no clue what I'm talking about". She's the one who's got no clue, goddamn her all the way. I wish she bothered to look closer at me. I bet she doesn't even remember the reasons behind the keloids down my arm, but she never misses the chance to say they're horrible. Well, duh.
To be honest, though, I got used to having her over today, and I even told her to stay for lunch. We were in my bedroom for a while, and if I told you she's a lesbian, you'd think a lot of things. She is, you know? But she played poker while I combed my hair and I tried to tune my guitar.
I told her about Joseph. She'd heard from a friend that I was dating someone who looked...like a criminal, or something? I can't remember her exact words, but that was the idea. It's not my fucking fault, nor his, that he's got the face of a gangster. I told Joseph about it, and he said he wasn't any different from any other guy. Not even in the wardrobe, because a lot of guys dress like him.
That's something I'm seriously starting to hate. He looks like someone who would spit on your face and such, and people get carried away with the looks. You can't really blame people for that, but you can as well say do not suppose anything, learn the facts first.
I told Carmen he loved knives, because she asked me to tell her more about him. The knives deal is the first thing that comes to my mind. He carries knives?, she asked. Only one, I replied: the cops confiscated the rest. And they did, it's the truth. She made a face, like resisting to formulate a judgement about him (that I gotta give her credit for), but not helping thinking: "I'm wondering if you've made a good choice". Well, that's not up to you nor to anybody but me to decide.
I didn't find Joseph at first, when I arrived to the campus. I started to feel hopeless, and after about 30 minutes of waiting, I walked around. I saw him from afar, and when we finally met, I noticed he was sweating. And he explained: he'd carried a trunk, up to the second floor of a building (somebody needed it for an sculpture or something). I saw the trunk later, and it weighs more than he does (that's a fact). It's fatter, too.
The bottom line is that the 30 minutes without him were enough to bring me down, and keep me down for the day. And I still am. I've been sad, very melancholy, and not even him was able to erase that feeling in its entirety. I don't know why I am sad, why I want to cry. I'd even like to cut, but he wouldn't like that, would he? I'd kill him with that. I'd like to call him right now, but I'd break down over the phone, I'd start sobbing like I am right now. And I'm afraid my parents will hear me. And I don't want to worry him, either (his words: when I'll see you cry, my world will fall apart), although tomorrow he'll hug me and tell me you should've called me, love...love, are you alright?.
Now I don't want to be with anybody else but him, because it seems people will always want to have a say about my relationship with him. I know he hasn't been a role model, but...hell, I don't even want to say: "but he's in love with me and looks out after me like nobody have", because that makes me naive to their eyes. "Don't get too sexual with him, you whore"; "don't think he loves you, he probably just wants to get in your pants"; "he looks dangerous, I wouldn't trust him". Well, they can screw themselves. I'll screw Joseph (*cough*).
I look at faces of people I know or knew from school, I run into them at the campus, and I think they judge me for being with someone like him, someone who's actually done a few things that are socially unacceptable. Or maybe those are just my voices in my head and my paranoia. I don't even want to think what Freud would say about this defensive behavior of mine.
Joseph and I went to a house near the campus this afternoon, where three of his best friends literally live. They treat me like a princess, which is both embarrasing and nice. They're always in front of a computer or playing PS2. It's the huge guy named Tiny, Adam and another guy. This time there was another huge guy, like a fat Mister T., who went: Hey, this is your girlfriend? she's so purty!. He was this tough-looking guy, with tattoos and a piercing in his ear, but he was very polite, and later Joseph told me he has a heart of gold.
Anyway, whenever we go to that house, we watch things in Adam's computers. Last time it was Happy Tree Friends episodes and today it was Invader Zim episodes. All I can say about Invader Zim is that I always wished to come up with something as good as that cartoon.
Joseph...Joseph is a mix between Zim and G.i.r. More like Zim, actually. He's got, among other things, the same facial elasticity, and the same evil laughter. He's not green, and his eyes aren't red nor that big...but he who came up with the character was definitely thinking about Joseph, his outrageous ideas and his electric ways of behavior.
Besides being sad (depressed-like sad), I'm annoyed, trying to finish the research, which is due on thursday. I don't understand what's so hard about drafting and following goddamned instructions about the format of the work. I'm banging my head against the monitor, wishing Victoria was in front of a self of mine, an assertive self: this is NOT how it's supposed to go, you have it wrong...dammit, goddammit it all, GODDAMMIT ALL!!!. I am upset, hi.
I don't know why I'm feeling so awful. I don't want to do anything, ANYTHING. I want to scream at everybody, I don't want to say a word. I want to be left alone (funny thing is I am alone) and be with no one but Joseph. I haven't felt like this since last year, all depressed, tearful, annoyed, stuck, worthless. I want to put a gun to my head and pull the trigger, and stain the wall with my stupid brains. I hate the color of the wall, anyway. I hate everybody, except for the alien looking guy. And maybe I hate myself, too.
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