Wednesday, 12/04/02 - 6:11 pm.
Yay the Ninja Turtles. Yay my luck.
Today I finally signed in on the MSN messenger, after 6 days of absence (give me some credit, it was hard). He wasn't on, but Cel was. Thank God. I'd missed talking to her. She gave some news that, for some reason, didn't surprise me: she and Art broke up. After a year and 5 months, they broke up. We didn't talk a lot about it, but I can sense now we're in the same situation (read: brokenhearted).
Veronica, Adri and Norman are coming over tomorrow. Guess what?...I am not happy about it. I don't want them to come over, I still hope they won't. Maybe they won't get their act together and end up not showing up.
Because of said news and for the usual (him), I cut myself last night, after quite some time. It was a long procedure, which results were just 7 small cuts. I mostly stared at my kit, and specially at my favorite blade. The cuts made me forget about my friends coming over, but they didn't help me forget about him.
I just think of him. I remember the pain that his indifference and coldness cause(d) me. Not only remember it, I still feel it, like it was happening right now. I think of everything about him. I finished the book last night, and I couldn't help thinking how alike the feelings of the lady and I are.
My dad bought me an apple pie yesterday, and I experimented happiness. Real happiness. I can't explain, and I can't believe, that such little snack can give me that feeling, but yes, it's true. For a little while, I was the happiest being on earth, my twentyfourseven heartache disappeared and I was smiling like crazy.
God bless apple pies.
But then reality and night arrived. And it's funny, but it's when I go to bed that I think of him, and cry until I run out of tears. I've given up trying to fall asleep. It happens when I least expect it, after a long time, and I don't even notice. And that's every night. I go to bed at 10 and end up falling asleep at 11:30. Thinking. Wondering. Crying.
But if I commited suicide, at least you'd think of me once a year. Your obvilion is killing me slowly....your obvilion is my agony.
Writing a random line about how I feel every night doesn't help anymore. Nothing helps. No cutting, no writing...nothing works.
What am I gonna do?
...of course you realize I don't expect an answer. That's the kind of things you ask when you're screwed up, needing an answer, yes, but you're aware that most likely there's no answer. Because the harm is done and nothing can change that.
I want to rip my heart off my chest and throw it away. To feel nothing. To die. So every december 4th he'll think of me. See, it's dangerous to take people for granted. Once you get used to see them, you don't notice them anymore.