Tuesday, 12/10/02 - 1:41 pm.
I'm having a bad day. Not too much, but bad enough.
I went to the UCA to pay for the course. Long story short, I had some problems and my dad got really pissed off. With a deep will to shoot myself in the middle of the campus, I headed to the bank, to pay.
The line was very long. And I had to put up with stupid, hot, trendy teenagers: "he was like, soooo hot", "girl, I hope we run into the hottie, remember the hottie? Mmmmmmmm..."...*sticks out tongue with disgust*, you get the idea.
Later I saw my dad approaching, asked me something and said he'd be around. He smiled, like nothing had happened. I was relieved. So after all, everything turned out ok, and I did all the stupid paperwork on time.
I was going to the post office this morning, before the UCA shit, to mail the 13 cards. But due to time issues, I'll go later in the afternoon.
It's a good thing that I took long at the UCA, though. You see, it was originally 14 cards. But Nicole (one of my friends, lives in Florida) had moved out, and I didn't have her new address. I sent her an e-mail asking her and she never replied. I checked my e-mail when I came back home from the UCA. She'd replied. Had I been to the post office in the morning, I'd have been late to the UCA and I wouldn't have gotten to send Nicole a card. What a coincidence (?).
On my way back from the UCA, I saw a man selling a duck on the street. I don't know if it was a real duck. It looked too exotic to be from this area. There aren't ducks around here anyway. I hope it was just a statue or something. It's bad enough to have people suffer.
I've been feeling pissed off and miserable throughout the day. I even forgot to carry my "self-mutilation kit" which is comforting just to know it's at my reach, but then I said to myself that I was better off without it, because my parents could find it.
I discovered that he will take the UCA course in the morning. Great, I'm taking it in the afternoon. So Norman, Veronica and Denver will be at the UCA in the morning, I will be in the afternoon.
That's it, you're not seeing him ever again.
Yes, that's it.
I'm tired of crying. Last night I tried to think of anything but him, and I pretty much avoided the subject. So I didn't cry. This morning I wanted to talk to him, and tell him. I'm mad at him.
I HATE YOU, JERK! I WISH I'D NEVER MET YOU AND MY OTHER STUPID LITTLE FRIENDS! YOU ALL ARE THE SAME, YOU END UP DOING THE SAME THING TO ME, WHAT THE FUCK DID I DO TO YOU, WHY DIDN'T YOU JUST TELL ME?
I want to break something.
Also, on my way from the UCA, I thought of not feeding myself, for being so stupid and making my dad angry. He asked me if I wanted a snack or something, but I said no, although I was starving. I couldn't help thinking of the line: hunger hurts, but starving works. I felt I needed to punish myself for being so dumb. I understood ana and mia a bit more.
But I'm such a wussy so I quickly forgave myself and drank chocolate milk when I got home.
But I'm mad at Denver. One thing leads to another and part of me ends up saying that 17 years is enough. That I just should give up and kill myself. Of course I'm not doing it, duh. I have a family. I may not reflect it here, but everyday (or at least every 2 days) I thank God for what I have: a complete body, a caring, loving, bonding family, three meals a day with snacks, roof, clothes...you know, the basics to "live with dignity", like the social studies text books say. I'd be the stupidest being on earth if I killed myself...geez, give up what I've been so kindly given and what so many people would like (and deserve) to have? no, that must not happen. So I'm really not that bitchy, and once in a while I stop and analize what I do have, and not what I lost or what I'd like to have. And yes, I'm thankful.
But still, I think of death a lot. Because on the other hand, I kind of regret some things, about others and about myself. I'd like to cut myself deeply, and bleed a lot. I wish I could blame Denver, Veronica, Carmen...my friends. And anyway, they always say it was their fault (except Carmen who blames me, but she blames for my reactions to her actions...I wish I could tell her this). I wish I just could say goodbye and leave...or maybe not even say goodbye, just leave. So they'd wonder where I am, if I'm ok...
But I'd hate to leave with the weight of unsaid things on my back. I couldn't handle it. Maybe I could but it wouldn't be fair. It's not fair. It's not fair.
This is what I've been thinking today, and the feelings I'm getting from these thoughts are the reason why I'm having a bad day. Not bad enough to commit suicide, but bad enough to think about it.