Wednesday, 03/30/05 - 11:27 pm.
In the big scheme of the universe, I can't complain about my life. It's always been calm and free of major troubles. I'm very lucky, but you'll have to forgive me in this entry, for saying that, right now, THE STORY OF MY LIFE IS FUCKING KILLING ME!!!
This certain ("hardware", if you will) journal I have is for times when I'm sad, depressed, frustrated, and such. I write something, and usually I stain it with tears or drops of blood, or both. Tonight I stained a whole page with my blood. I didn't cut a lot, as usual, and definitely not deep nor on the vein, but I kept repeating "I want to die" as I slashed the wrist.
So maybe you'd like to know why I got to my bedroom tonight, in tears, drowning screams, and feeling like tearing apart my own skin with a knife.
I didn't expect Joseph to show up today. I just got to the campus, looked for a table and sat there to read and see all the foreigners parading, with their cute accents/languages. After an hour or so, I saw him approaching. And I didn't know whether to be glad or depressed.
He kissed me on the cheek, because I was wearing a very sticky lipgloss. I don't want to look gay, he said. I smiled, and wiped it off with the back of my hand, just so he'd kiss me on the lips. Only later I realized he didn't use to care about getting stained with my lipgloss.
What time is your class?, he asked. I said at 5:30. I'll see you at 4:30, I have to meet up with someone. He kissed me again and walked away. "He wasn't even here for me", I thought, with a knot in my throat.
It was 3:45. Then it got to 4:30. 4:45. 4:55. And he didn't show up. I started to walk around the hallways, hoping to run into him (he was somewhere in the university, at the cafateria most likely). Nothing. I finally sat on a step near my classroom, with my back to the hallway. Not really waiting for Joseph anymore, just trying to fight back the tears.
He didn't see me and walked away. I noticed when he was far from me, and for a while I thought of letting him go. But I really, REALLY wanted to talk to him, so I grabbed my backpack and ran after him.
Hello, he said. I said hello but a voice overlapped mine. It was a friend of his, greeting him. He greeted back, and then asked where's your class?. I replied A12, but again, another voice overlapped mine. He greeted back.
A third group of friends came up to him. And one of them said, you heard? *certain boy* drowned on saturday, he's dead. Joseph was really impressed, and it seemed like everything around me, including me, of course, dissappeared. He asked what time, and when the friend replied, Joseph said, but I'd just been talking to him. And he wouldn't stop saying that it was fucked up and such.
All I thought was "I wish I was dead".
Let me make this clear: I couldn't possibly be more aware of the pain that losing a friend has caused Joseph. But I was upset, because that's the story of my life: I have a weight, something that's bothering and I need to talk about, and then something bigger comes up and suddenly my worry is worthless. I'm not blaming Joseph, obviously. But that's what I mean. It's always something I can't control, and it's always about somebody else.
I have to go, he said. I can't be here like this. Sure, what the hell was I supposed to say. So I went to my classroom, even though I wanted to go to the restroom and cut open my wrists. I was fighting hard to avoid crying, especially there. It was time for class, so the place was crowded. I only remembered the painful desperation of senior high, when the bell would ring, and I would run out of breath, and want to rip apart my throat, and kill myself.
I sat outside the classroom, on a rock, and Victor came to talk to me, and then Carmen (this was the class I have with her). I acted like nothing was happening and that helped me get along. Before class I saw Joseph walking with his friend Fer, he'd come back into the campus. That bugged me, and pushed my tears even more, but the professor was walking into the classroom already, and he didn't even see me.
I had Latinamerican Literature, and we spent most of the hour writing out a character. It was very entertaining, and it made me feel better. Or numb, anyway. Afterwards, I had the class which my brother teaches, and that made me really happy. He's so clever, and so unbelievable good at being critical of our reality and psychology in general. And at the end of the class he was doing attendance, and when he got to my name he said, very serious, you kind of look familiar. That made me -and the class- laugh.
I offered Irene a ride home, and while we waited for my dad to pick us up, she told me about this relationship she'd just broken off today, because the guy would never tell her anything personal. He had a daughter, and never told Irene, and when she figured it out and confronted him about it, "do you have a daughter?", he said: No, I...I don't know. She broke up with him mostly due to the fact that he wasn't sincere at all.
So until I came home and locked myself in my bedroom, I'd managed pretty well to avoid reality. But as soon as I closed the door, I threw myself in bed and started to cry, and I cried a lot. And I repeated myself what was making me cry, I told the story I've told here, as if I was telling it to someone, and I ended up cutting and bleeding all over my journal. And crying some more.
I had a glass of milk, and I found Vic online. I told him what was going and he cheered me up. At your service, my queen, he said, when I thanked him for his support and advice. He's just such a gentleman to me. Then I talked to Victor, and since he asked about Joseph, I gave him an overview.
- Victor: maybe you should call him.
- Me: I know I should, but I don't feel strong enough to pretend like nothing's happening between us.
I ended up calling him, though. After all, he's lost a friend, that's not an insignificant matter. I'm just checking on you. It was very quick. He was drinking, but I didn't expect any other news. Considering the situation, he's doing ok.
I kind of felt better after calling him, because that'd show I care about him (on the other hand, it could be the same to him). He said he'd contact me, or I could contact him tomorrow morning. I said something like "whenever you can", but I should have just said goodbye.
God, do I feel hurt.
- Angel: is your entry up?
- Me: almost.