A WAY TO GET MYSELF UNTIED!
Saturday, 06/08/02 - 7:47 pm.

We say hello to our dearest friend, Mikey...Hi, Mikey! Hi, Mikey! Hi, Mikey!

Elsy left about an hour ago. I had a great time with her.

See, my day didn't start out well. I went to math classes, got all confused and saw Veronica. Geez, all now it takes for me to get depressed is to see her.

According to this place, I should draw what I see. I can't draw people, but I decided to give it a shot. A girl stood in front of me, and I sketched. It was hard, because she was changing position everytime. I was aware of that, I know that's bound to happen when your model doesn't know she is being such thing. The drawing sucked. Then I drew a boy that walked me by and...well, it was better. Not good, but compared to the first one, better.

So...Elsy came. We talked, had lunch, studied and took a break to hear the rain coming. We stood out in the garden, listening to it, from far away. It must be approaching now. We saw a lightning...and it started pouring. We headed to the bedroom, lied on my bed next to each other and talked about death, homosexuality (yet I wish we�d have talked about deeper, more personal stuff)....she told me she's lesbian. Really, she is. Her girlfriend's name is Marcela. I don't know if it's true or not, she looked very serious about it. But hell, who cares she's lesbian or straight, I enjoyed our time together. We talked about other interesting stuff, yet that may bore you. She also told me how people make a big deal out little problems. Like the guy does.

Speaking of him, he called. I told him Elsy was here and he asked me to let him speak to her. I knew they were going to have a somewhat long conversation (they�re very close), so I took it as my bathroom break. They only talked about last night. Last night, everybody went to The Cactus, a bar, pub, discotheque, whatever you want to call it. Elsy didn't go, because her mother didn't let her. The guy went and he was telling her what happened. After that, she gave me back the phone to me. Hey, listen...do you still have the idioms list you made last year?...I wasn't sure, but I said I might. Can you lend it to me on monday?. Ok, whatever. Thanks, bye. Ok, whatever. I told Elsy that my friends use me. She sort of smiled.

I deleted the copy in my PC last year, but I found the draft. 6 pages of idioms. And I'm typing everything in the computer again. Oh, not for him, I'm not typing it for him. It's for me, to keep a better quality copy. I�ll let him keep the dirty draft.

I feel very hurt. But at the same time, I feel nothing. I feel very stoic. Very, very stoic. In fact, I wouldn�t mind if I started vomiting blood and died in five minutes. I feel I�ve reached my goal as human being (I noticed that while talking to Elsy, and I told her): I�m happy. I�m kind of sad and depressed because of all the little things that happened and keep happening to me, but I�m happy. You scan the credits for your name and wonder why is not there. Thanks to myself. And well, yeah, Simeon. I know what happiness is. And it�s much closer than anyone could think. I felt very happy when Elsy and I were on bed, talking and listening to the pouring rain. I wonder if she felt the same. What�s the real idea of happiness, anyway? It's not like happiness lasts a week. It's just moments. Those priceless moments that happen in a specific space and time.

Yes, I could die right now. Not because I hate people, not because I�m pissed off at the people I give love to and return me nothing but a thanks for �being useful, good-bye�. Not because I�m sad. It�s because I�ve met face to face with happiness. All of the phylosophers have agreed that the ultimate goal of man is to be happy: man, in esence, was born to be happy. I admit it, I�m happy. I have the balls to put aside self-victimization and say that I�m a happy person.

Alanis music is a big influence in my stoicism. I do know what she means. Those are the same things I really want, too. But for the time being, we�re having chinese food for dinner. It�s time to be epicureist.

I want to scream. Because of both anger and bliss.

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