One thing leads to another until you die.
Wednesday, 11/05/03 - 10:39 am.

Ok, first the good stuff: it's my brother Alan's birthday today!!! My mom's been crying, and his ex-girlfriend-who loves-him-to-death is coming over for lunch, so I'm starting to think if it's a good thing it's his birthday.

On my way to the UCA I was thinking about that praying thing. Should I pray for not running into him today?, I asked myself, knowing very well it was his birthday. Dear God, please don't let me run into him today. I thought it was useless, because not running into him was the natural state of the universe, and praying was to be used only to change such state.

On my way to the classroom, I heard a little girl calling my name. I don't know many children...who-but-who could be-a knocking on my door?, I thought, quoting a John Lennon story (I think that's how it goes, anyway). It wasn't a little girl, it was Claudia (she's particularly small) and Norm.

They were placing balloons, decorating somebody's car. Of course, it was D's car, and they told me so. I talked to them for a while (not about D's birthday at all) but I left them quickly because I had a midterm (category "HA!"). And just as I was leaving the parking lot, D was coming my way...but over the stairs. I looked the other way, repeating "he won't see me, he won't see me, he won't see me...". And he didn't. As I walked away relieved, I heard Claudia screaming. Their surprise (decorating D's car) had been spoiled, by the early arrival of the birthday boy.

I had hystericals for a long time, even in the middle of the midterm. Because of the spoiled surprise, and because, once again, divine manifestations have had their way on me.

But then things went downhill. Angie was very sad, on the verge of breaking down. I still don't know why, but I might have a clue. She's not doing very well (not well at all, actually), and her grades are...terrible. I tell her to quit her -full time- job so she can have more time to study, but she won't. I think she feels overwhelmed and tired. I'll try to talk to her today.

Then it's 1, the boyfriend. He says since sunday he's been feeling incomplete. Out of place. Lonely. Like he's missing something. And no offense...even when I'm with you. No offense taken, of course, I happen to feel the same way (only he doesn't know). He says he's got it all, and yet he feels something's missing. We talked for a while, I was listening to him, thinking of the importance of Carl Rogers' "client-centered therapy".

See, now you're worried. I don't want you to get worried about me, it's nothing important, it's not like I'm going to kill myself because of it, he said. I answered: well, just because you're not going to kill yourself over this doesn't mean that it isn't important. Everything human is important, and you're not just 0s and 1s (he's majoring in computer science, so he gives a lot of importance to machines and codes and math), you're human, too.

When I came home at night, I was feeling sad for Angie and 1. And I must admit, a little sad for myself, mostly because of D.

I sat at the computer and wrote a heartfelt letter to him, that of course he will never know of. I think writing it made me realize a lot of things (geez, a year and a half ago and I keep discovering new stuff), but I still think it doesn't sum everything up.

Cel came online, and she told me she saw him. I asked her if he was happy. He was miserable, she answered. And my world finally fell apart. Then Rod came online: bla, bla, bla, couldn't study because it was D's birthday and we went to his house to celebrate.

Since I saw Norm and Claudia decorating his car, I knew they had something in mind for him. They're like that, surprising you on your birthday, very thoughtful of them. I was glad they didn't invite me, because I'd have ended up sneaking out of the compromise, anyway, avoiding akwardness. But it also showed me that somehow I don't belong to that group. That's ok,'s just that there's a difference between last year and this one...maybe they know I make D feel uncomfortable, or maybe they know I feel uncomfortable when he's around...or they just see me like he and I don't have a bond...which is true, anyway.

All these days, for several weeks now, I'd been feeling ok. Not happily ecstatic, but fairly good. But last night something came (back) over me, and I slashed my skin...wrists, ankles, thighs. No wounds really bled, but there are many thin red lines over me. They're specially hurtful after showering, but that's ok.

I can't find words to describe how I felt last night, and how I've been feeling so far. I closed my eyes trying to fall asleep and run away from consciousness, wishing, for the first time in a month or so, I died inmediately.

This morning my dad was hurtful to my mom (he often is, and I'm starting to get overly upset) and that led me to break down and cry. It's stupid, it seems my heart has become a high-technology pad that turns liquids into gel, and I can't shed a tear after a while. I try to hold myself back, too, because I might start sobbing and crying loudly, and my parents might hear.

I prayed two days ago for something, and it came true. I prayed yesterday for something, and it came true. If I pray today for dying, will it came true?, I asked myself, somewhat hopeful. I dared. I closed my eyes and I asked God to kill me. Obviously it hasn't happened.

I am refrained by the certainty that I'd destroy my family if I died. I want to tear apart my skin, out of frustration, but I'd hate for them to find out that I feel...bad. Because I shouldn't feel bad. Sometimes I think I'd be better if they didn't care about me, or if they just disappeared, but I never wish for that, because "be careful what you wish for". I don't want to lose them in any way, I don't want them to be worried about me, I don't want them to notice I feel crushed, because I'm scared they'd feel guilty, they'd feel impotent, or they wouldn't understand (I don't even understand it completely myself).

I find myself in bed, hoping to rot, wanting not to move. But at the same time, I want to get out, I want to get out and scream that I don't feel ok. It pisses me off that no one can see that I'm falling apart inside. I know that's a dumb thing to expect, I am aware of it. But at the same time, the helplessness and misery I feel (over what?!) is so intense that it's a mistery to me why nobody else can see it and notice I'm....sad.

My throat dries, my stomach burns constantly (like hunger, but I do eat) and suddenly I start to feel cold. I'm even wearing a sweater. I don't feel sick, but I don't feel healthy either. It's like these aches (aside from the wounds I made myself) are throat is dry because I haven't drank water, my stomach burns because I haven't eaten. I have. There's no reason to feel phisically sick.

Once again, I've reached the point of praying for losing my mind, so that I can do what I want without caring about the others. I can slash my arms (I'm a slasher, not a cutter) and when people ask I'll tell them the truth, not caring about their reactions. So I can stay in bed all day, crying, with the door open, not to be noticed but just because it's the same if it was closed.

At this point it's hard to believe, even for myself, that this has anything to do with D.

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