Saturday, 10/02/02 - 12:11 am.
Well, today it's october 31st, 2002, the penultimate day in our existence as ESJ students. Yours truly would like to communicate to you that he is concerned about you because of everything that happened today. Something tells me I've got to talk to you about it but I'm not going to do it until you allow me to do so. If you don't feel like talking about it, it's cool, but I hope that it happens one day. I'm just telling you again that you have all my support. Although sometimes I may seem made out of ice, I can help.
Me.
I know for facts of life that things happen whenever you least expect them to happen. When I received the notice: you have 1 new e-mail message, it didn't even cross my mind that it could be from Denver. But yes, it was from him. Something completely unexpected.
But unlike what people might think, I wasn't thrilled. I read it twice, stared at the screen and said apathetically: uh....ok. I didn't feel the need to climb up the walls, nor jump, nor smile...I sort of smiled. But that's because I don't get e-mails with a real message from a human being so often.
Maybe it's because I've really given up on everything. Maybe because there's no time at all to fix things and get back to "normal". Maybe because I tend to think that the words he wrote are just that: words. How many times have I thought "damn, my relationship with him is finally looking up again"?
No. Not again.
There's nothing to do to fix anything, or whatever he means by talking about "all that happened". What does he mean by "all that happened"? When did he see me that day? I didn't see him.
That day? That day I learned about angels, real angels. And I cried about it. But I doubt he even saw me, I was in the classroom when I was crying.
I did see him that day, but I didn't even write about it because I didn't consider it worth-telling. It's this:
I had finished my english exam, and I took out one page I was writing on, a notebook and a pencil. Because I was writing down my strongest feelings.
On one side of the paper everthing was:
I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you you make me sick I hate you I hate you I hate you you hurt me I hate you I hate you please come back to me I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you ...
and so on, from top to bottom. On the other side it was:
I love you I love you I love you I love you please don't hurt me I love you I love you I love you heal me I love you I love you you don't love me I love you I love you I love you I love you help me I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you ...
I wrote about six pages with the same things. I found it therapeutic (you should do it some time).
So I was sitting all by myself on the hallway. And as I was writing down, I had my piece of glass next to me. This piece of glass is stained with my own blood, hence why I'm so fond of it more than to the rest of broken glasses I've had.
And he sat down in front of me. Along with Angelica. I said hi, he said hi. I didn't say anything, I kept writing. He saw my glass and held it in his hands for a while, then he softly slid it down my knee. I smiled: that's not how it's done. He put it back, stayed with me for a minute or so and then said he was going to the boys' room. I said ok. And that was it. We didn't talk.
So I really don't know why he's so worried. He knows I cut myself, and that's that. Of course I e-mailed him back, saying we could talk whenever he wants. But it's not like I'm excited about it. We'll probably end up not talking at all.
I'm getting back to my "I have nothing to talk about" self. And I'm not pretending I have nothing to talk about. I really don't feel like talking.
- Geovanni: Hey! how are you?
- Me: Good.
- Geovanni: How was the english exam?
- Me: Easy.
- Geovanni: do you think you got a good grade?
- Me: yes.
- Geovanni: Glad to hear it...see you around. Take care!
- Me: see you.