Saturday, 10/26/02 - 11:43 am.
It was 10 o'clock this morning and I had already been to the UCA, realized what a good decision I've made by choosing psychology as my career, and how healthy this change in my life (from high school to college) will be for me. And also, I'd gotten a haircut. Nothing outrageous, just shorter. But I feel a big difference.
Last night, something nice happened. Well, it wasn't entirely nice, but it cheered me up so much...It's just a miracle. An aeromiracle.
*tear of joy, frustration and excitement because of what happened*
So...well, I have cheered up a little bit since yesterday. Well, a lot, considering yesterday I almost commit suicide and today I'm not planning on harming myself.
I've reached the point of needing self-mutilation to deal with rough situations, but I too realize that's not good. It's not a solution.
When you lose your life, you have nothing else to lose. When you die, in the end, nothing really matters. But maybe life itself it's not about a purpose but the means you use. Maybe life has no purpose...or the means you use it's the purpose itself.
Life's a journey, not a destination... I have to admit I never took the time to understand that line.
- Vic: Tyler, be honest...look at me, be honest, baby...does it really help you? Does it really make you feel better?
Vic has now become an anti-self-destruction activist. At least against me. Who knew, he was a self-destructive being himself. Then we both would harm ourselves. And now I took advantage. And him, and Pablo, and Cel are trying to talk me into stopping.
They're my friends. But I don't need them to give me such advice. I'm gonna stop when I need to. And in first place, I should've never started. No, I don't regret doing it. I don't regret it when I see the red lines appear. They heal, the scars disappear. I don't regret it, but I know it's not ok to do it.
I'm not gonna stop all of a sudden, but I'm gonna do the right thing. And I'm gonna start to release my blood on the ones who made me do this to myself. I'm writing a letter to Veronica. Then I'm writing one to Carmen.
Veronica: you've pushed me aside, you've made me feel worthless. You made me feel alone. You hurt me. You're so fuckin' egocentric and everything has to be about you. Sometimes I wish I'd never met you. And I don't care if you don't talk to me after I've given you this letter, it's not like you've been my friend these past years. And this is the answer to your question that I've heard from you: what's the matter?. I never wanted to tell you. I know you have problems and I didn't want you to deal with one like this. But it's not fair for me.
Carmen: it's not my fuckin' fault. When I tried to get back to you, you were already with that gang, and you seemed to be having a good time. Not everything has to be about you. Stop being so egocentric. Listen and make yourself seem you're listening. You hurt me once in 8th grade, and from that moment on, you were never the same to me, and that's why I treat you the way I do. I wish you could've listened to what I have to said, but you really don't make me feel like talking to you. A few times I've been sorry for ever meeting you. Whatever happens after you read this letter, it doesn't really matter to me. You always asked me what was wrong with me, and now I'm telling you the truth. I never wanted to tell you this, because I'm pretty sure I'd wind up in the role of the bad friend that doesn't get your issues. It's not fair. I went through some shit myself, and you weren't there for me either, you were having lunch with your gang outside school. You should've opened your eyes a little bit more. I tried to help you, but at the time you were into Veronica, you both had already hurt me like you have no idea (and do you know why you don't get that?) and I quickly gave up.
.....I think I'm just going to write these down. Short and straight to the point, not like the hugeass unholy bible I'm writing in my psychology notebook.
I still don't know what to tell to Denver. Fuck, I'm just gonna tell him he hurt me when he put me away. I'm not resentful, just hurt. Period.
It must be my shorter hair, but I'm thinking more clearly now.
prev / next