Sunday, 09/05/04 - 9:37 pm.
It's been so long since I had such a terrible sunday. I've spent the most part of it in anguish. For no reason, really. I'm in some sort of distress, like I'm looking for something. I'm making an effort to make my head create or recreate something, but I can't do it.
I couldn't get myself to do anything useful throughout the day, other than reading four pages of freudian theories. I could mention I played guitar and spent time on the computer, but it was futile. I was going nuts. I didn't want to do anything, but I wanted to do something good, something catartic, something creative.
I found my three journals, one from 8th, one from 9th to 10th grade, and the one I currently write on (whenever I'm upset) at the back of the drawer next to my bed. One's locked and the other is wrapped up in masking tape; the other one is just a notebook (and that scares me...anybody could open it and see the dry blood on some of the pages). I thought of unlocking one, or uwrapping the other one, just so maybe I could give my mind a push on this "recreate something" issue. I was curious, I wanted to discover all those things I've forgotten. But I was too scared of what I'd found and how I'd feel about it.
The only nice thing of my day was when I caught queer eye for the straight guy. I got very nostalgic, because I used to watch it with my brother every monday morning at 1 am, before he left for El Paso. My mom seemed interested in the show tonight, and I think she liked it. I mean, she chuckled.
But my mood can't possibly improve right now. There's a movie about racism on TV (my dad's watching it), about a black man who couldn't read and write, and was forced to say he killed a white girl. I hate those movies, and I hate even more that those movies are based on real life.
I'm tired of this stupid depressive, pointless, spoiled, whiny, tearful behavior of mine. I hate myself for feeling like this without a reason. But I can't help it. I even felt like cutting today...I kind of miss doing it (monster!), but I can't do it, I won't do it, because I have a family to support (well, not really, but I don't want to do this to Joseph).
I cried in the afternoon, and for a shapeless reason that I don't care to explain. I also spent one hour in my bed and one hour on the floor, trying to take a nap. I couldn't. I wasn't tired, and my mind was one hour ahead of real time, racing, dwelling on the same things we (my mind and I) have been dwelling on the whole weekend.
When is this going to stop?, I asked myself, ignoring what was that thing I wanted to stop.
I'm glad the weekend is over, it's been horrible for me. And the worst part is that there's no justification for that statement. I was simply overly emotional, I saw things about the world that tear me apart (not that I didn't know they existed before), and I'm going crazy. I want to scream, or better yet, be quiet.
I'm glad tomorrow is school day. What am I saying, I don't go to school anymore. I'm going to the university now, my life is easier. I get good grades, because it'd be stupid if someone with so much time in her hands, like me, failed. I am not going to fail, but for a moment I felt as though I had to go to my bedroom and leave my school uniform on the chair, ready to be put on at 5 am tomorrow.
And you know why I want to go to school tomorrow? To hide my cuts with my bracelets, be ignored and cry at the end of the hall, where nobody goes because they're busy enjoying the recess. And then smash my head against the thin tree in front of his classroom, like I did that day when Cel and Vic told me stop, he's not looking, anyway.