But on the other hand (you have a razor...)
Wednesday, 06/04/03 - 12:35 pm.

It was a coincidence that I found 1 on my way to my classroom yesterday afternoon. He was coming out of a midterm he was sure he'd failed. He stayed with me until my class started...for about half an hour, that is. We didn't talk *that* much, and he kindly (ironically) pointed that out: "hey, don't you talk too much". I told him that he shouldn't worry, I'm always that way. I usually have nothing to say, it's nothing personal (come to think of it, I usually don't say anything, even if I DO have something to say).

I like him a lot, and everyday I long to see him. But...I'm not in love with him. I think that's normal, though, given we don't really know each other. Yet for some reason, I'm scared I'll end up hurting him.

Victoria gave me a letter yesterday. I'd told her about Angie being mad at me, and somehow we got to the point where she asked me: "are you depressed, or something?". I tried to say yes, withouth giving any affirmation, and she said: "well, everybody is".

I thought that was...I can't name it, but it's the kind of things that upset me a little. When one says he is feeling something and someone replies "yes, everybody is feeling the same". In my case, I know I'm not the only one who goes through some rough times (in fact, mine must be only in my head), but when I bring that up, the last thing I want is to be told "yes, you're not the only one", because it makes me feel like I don't matter as an individual.

But anyway, I sort of told her I'd hurt myself because of my "anger" (I lost control and I cut myself), and she didn't say anything. I didn't think she even paid attention to that last part. But in her letter she said she couldn't find anything to say at that moment, but she wanted to tell me that I should never underrate myself and that God loves me (that was really cute), and also she gave me a poem about life...it was a sweet thing.

I wrote her back, thanking her wholeheartedly and trying to tell her that it was no big deal. After all, she is right. We all have our share of problems (and I mentioned that I thought she'd been through a couple lately -meaning the breaking up with her boyfriend, that she wants nobody to find out about-).

I had a lot of fun last night, with my mates. The five of us (Victor -who now I believe wasn't mad at me at all-, Irene, Ern, Victoria and me). Just like when we started college, or even better. We were in psychology, and we were working on an assignment. While we were working, we were in tears laughing. For dumb things. The rest of the groups were desperately trying to find the answers but since we'd already read the chapter, we were only writing them down. It was great. I suppose we were making a lot of noise and we gave the impression we weren't working, but the professor didn't say anything.

I finally felt comfortable among them again, I could finally feel that it's my gang, and that I'm also part of it. It's like being in a bubble...I know it's not good to lock the world out, but sometimes you need to do it, just to take a break. I needed that (and we also were the first group to turn in the assignment....so HA!).

On the other hand...every morning I wake up with a knot in my stomach, some unjustified anguish. I feel so fucked up, and I don't even know why. I count all of my blessings, and I always give up halfway through them, because they're so many...and the more self-destructive I get, the more blessings I discover in my life...it's like self-destruction makes me realize all I have. Everybody (who knows I'm "potentially suicidal") thinks I don't know what I have and that's why I'm doing this, but it's the opposite: I am aware of what I have and what it's worth. No one understands.

Sometimes I get scared of being like this. No matter how many times I think of how blessed I am, I still want to kill myself. Life is beautiful, and even if I bitch about it sometimes, I am enjoying it. And yet I still feel like dying. It must be just the vocation for death, but that wouldn't calm down my family and friends if they found my dead body, all dried out with my blood all over my sheets, would it?

I know I'm special. I am special yet worthless. I know I'm worth everything to a lot of people, but I'm worthless to myself. And it's not because I don't like myself. I'm always amused at the things I come up to, I congratulate (and sometimes reward) myself for a given behavior/reaction/answer/idea/whatever, for liking to read, for caring for the grammar and the spelling, for reading the newspaper, for having Simeon and Co. in my life, for being able to look up and see the sky in a way that just a few people are able to...I mean, I am glad to be the way I am...

...self-destructive side included. And that's what people don't like. It hurts them, I know, so I try not to show scars. Before I did any harm to anybody, I'd hurt myself...but that's not really valid, as I already do.

It's all in the mind.
- George Harrison ("Yellow Submarine").

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