Do you listen?
Sunday, 10/07/01 - 8:23 p.m..

You wouldn't like to be me right now. I'm being eaten alive by mosquitoes.

I didn't write yesterday, did I? I don't know. I wasn't myself yesterday. Schizophrenia has taken back its place, someone else from any of my personalities took over and I can't remember a thing....I guess I didn't.

Veronica was coming over today. Fortunately, I had an excuse and now she's not. I don't want her to be here. She's talking and talking and then goes "what?" and keeps talking and talking. Why would she want to come over? Why would I want her to come over?

I guess I'm getting rid of my love for the guy. I was thinking, um, what?...what would it be if he was my boyfriend?......yeah, thinking of compromises makes you, um, what?, deny a lot of things you wanted before. So I said to my-in-love self...what? that we'd better be careful what we wish for.......is it annoying hearing those "whats?" between the sentences?...I find it annoying. Worst thing is that sometimes I find myself talking like that when I'm talking to Veronica.

I have nothing to talk about today. Hey, come on, it's sunday. I'm off on weekends. Nothing special happens. Well, it depends on what's your definition of "special". I wake up, watch TV (a little bit, it's not my biggest hobby), have breakfast, read the newspaper, take a bath, listen to Aerosmith, play the piano, spend (a lot of) time in front of the computer, spend time with family units (quality over quantity...we just had a charming time drinking coffee)...whatever. It's nothing out of this world...it's my world. That's why it's special to me. It's my own little world. It's the world I rent on weekends to take a break from the world I deal with on weekdays. It's always reality, though. It's not like I smoke pot. Yeah, ok, I guess smoking pot is another kind of reality...but that's another galaxy to me.

I suck at Pacman.

I wanted to get this book, but I couldn't. It's called The Lost Art Of Listening. It's about how you're telling someone a problem of yours, that someone interrupts you and starts talking about his own problems and totally changes the subject. And it kinda leaves you...hurt. I was thinking a lot about it and found out that this is one of the reasons that keep me away from people. You'll see:: I'd try to talk to Veronica, Carmen or Norman about something. No sooner did I finish and they started talking about themselves. That's not bad. At all. But I always wound up wanting some "feedback" or something. An opinion, an advice, any damn word that would let me know that they were listening to me. Is there something wrong with me? I always look at the people's faces when they're telling me something, I'm paying attention and try to not interrupt, much less to say something about myself. When they're finished, I comment on what they just said. Everyone has this phase when they want to be heard, when they want to talk just about themselves. That's great. I do have those phases too but I barely have someone who really listens to me. I love listening to people. I always get something out of what they say and they are thankful that someone does care. I love making people happy. It makes me happy. It's like Steven Tyler said (he was talking about concerts but it's the same idea): you give and receive at the same time.

I told Norman once:
- How can people hang out in groups of four of five?...they all talk at the same time and no one really listens to what others say
- Don't fool yourself. They learn. Hanging out in groups it's an art. They do listen to each other.

Well, then it must be me (which wouldn't surprise me). I always get that feeling when I'm in a group, or see one. He says I'm always looking for "exclusivity"...he says it in a "it won't always be that way, don't be stupid." tone. I know it won't always be that way. But it's been really long since I felt that I was having a big influence on someone and viceversa...at the same time.

Getting back to this listening issue...listening can make a big difference on someone. Maybe I started listening to people when I felt that lack of listening from the world towards me, which I believe it was in...1999. Yeah, that year sucked. Just pop music in the air. And...that's when occurred such a turning point in my life. That's where the reason I am like-I-am-now comes from. That's when I realized best friends are the ones that hurt you the most. That's when I started feeling alone. That's when I started feeling un-heard. "Unsocial". I saw it all...clearly. It's not long since I have got over that crap (it's related to Veronica & Carmen). And it's still hard sometimes. Can your best friend hurt you enough to make you cry at night, and run into the bathroom to get a gillete? I wanted to kill myself. Not because of myself. Because of them. Because they made me feel I was crap. Because I thought that was the only way they'd realize how much they shit on me and how hurt and unnoticeable I was feeling. I did kill myself and became a ghost for a while. Then I was reborn with schizophrenia, so I wouldn't feel all alone (I'm dead serious). Most important, I was reborn without forgetting the past. Past is pain but is also experience...I'm sorry. I don't forget. I'm very resentful at them.

I'll stop here. Good thing I had nothing to say. It's just...on weekends, I take care of my internal life, mostly. I think of what has happened and what might happen, how I feel, why I'm feeling that way...y'know, philosophical matters, past, present and future. The other 5 days, it's about my life as a social being who doesn't fit in society.

I'm going out...to church, to "celebrate" that my aunt died 9 days ago. It's a shame that I have to go dressed in black. Black gives you a lot of heat. It's the hottest color. And that sucks right now, because we're in summer and it's fuckin' hot. Which means I'll be in a bad mood. Heat makes me mad. Heat makes everyone mad. It's a fact. It gets you desperate.

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