Monday, 12/29/03 - 9:55 am.
So we did go to Austin, two days ago. It was definitely the longest day of my life.
Say we left the house at 10 am. We arrived to the relatives' house at maybe 1:30. And then we left at 4:30, coming back home at 9 pm.
The road trip to Austin was ok. Between watching a movie (just to avoid getting bored), looking out the window and listening to music, it went ok. I didn't know we were going to visit my sister in law's relatives. I got a little scared, because I always have bad experiences with her family, and I tend to dislike them a little bit. But they were really cool. I'd actually met them before, anyway.
But somewhere in that reunion, I started to feel jealous, out of place and out of date. Like my time had finished. Like they were paying attention to (a certain) somebody else, that was pretty much stealing my personality, and that somebody was being the center of attention. I don't mind people being the center of attention, I was really hoping no one would ask me questions ("so, how's college?", that type of questions you don't care to answer). But I hate it when they pay attention to someone THAT much, feeding the ego. Especially if that someone was making me feel...I don't know, like a headline on yesterday's news.
All the bad feelings grew and grew inside of me, and I fought back tears for the rest of the day. I was feeling the tears coming out, like when you want to sneeze, your eyes get all watery. I started to feel very, very sad. I can't even describe how sad I got. I could repeat the word sad twenty times, and it wouldn't be enough. Maybe sad is not the word, anyway. But I felt like crying. I don't remember hurting like that in my entire life.
After we left the relative's house, at about 4:30, we went to see the downtown of Austin. The Capitol, actually. What a beautiful place. But I was still feeling like breaking down. I thought it was my time to die, I wanted to, because I just didn't want to go on. I really felt like nobody. A sad nobody. You see, I was enjoying myself, enjoying the place, the gardens, enjoying the moment. But I was still feeling sad. Which is perhaps why I saw so much beauty around me. It was a contrast, my insides and the outside.
The rest was the road trip home, and I cried a little, because it was dark (I mean, I didn't cry because it was dark, I took advantage of the darkness). I covered my face with my jacket, listened to music, and cried one or two tears. I was sure no one would notice I was feeling like that. I suppose they thought I was bored to death, and that I was spoiling everybody's good time with my bad mood. I wasn't bored. I was just sad, on the verge of crying. And I was having a good time at the same time.
Finally we came back home, and we fixed dinner. We were at the table, talking about siblings, when my nephew Renan said him and his sister were not alike at all. I said "yes, you are...when you get mad". I said it like a joke, really. But then he stormed off and slammed his bedroom door. My stomach literally shut and I was about to throw up. I gave the rest of my meal to my brother. What a lovely way to top off such awful day.
No one at the table blamed me, or so it seemed. I think they all thought I wasn't serious (I was, though...but in a playful way). But everything became silent, and I felt like crying even more, which I didn't think could've been possible (at this time of the day, or night, I still had tears longing to come out). I was ashamed and sorry. My sister said I should be the one to talk to him, given I was the one who made the comment. I was going to do it, but first I locked myself in the bathroom, and I finally got the chance to cry.
And I couldn't. I just couldn't. I'd swallowed everything the whole day. And it felt horrible, like everything was stuck inside of me. I did cry, finally. And then I calmed myself, to go talk to my nephew, but then I started to cry again. And the cycle repeated twice more.
When I came out, it was late. And my nephew was in his parents' bedroom, talking to them, I suppose. One thing this kid has is some kind of lack of ability to properply place the blame on someone. He should've been mad at me (I don't know if he was), but instead he got mad at his parents, and they were the ones talking to him. I sat at the computer, waiting for him to come out. But he was just slamming doors, his and his parents', like he was going back and forth. Then he fell asleep.
I was so sorry, and words can't express how much I wanted to disappear. I started to pray for me to be able to slit my wrists, commiting suicide if you will, and I actually tried to. But I got scared when the blood started to come out in such way, and I got a wet tissue and put it on the fresh wounds. I wasn't scared for me, but for my family. I'd feel sorry for giving them such grief. In a way, I wanted them to notice me, but I also didn't want to.
So I went to bed, and just prayed for weakness. I don't know if holding back tears for about 7 hours is strenght, and I don't care for labels. I just wanted not to be able to get up in the morning. And I think it worked.
I woke up at 9 the next morning (yesterday) and I didn't get up until 11. I cried a little, and I was hoping someone would come and ask me if something was wrong, so I could show them my wrist. My wrist. I had not looked at it, because I wore a bandwrist (never take it off, except for showering). I took it off, and the sight disappointed me. Just three red lines. That was, no offense, gay. After scaring myself with the bleeding, the scars were just pink lines, thick as a hair. I got a little mad. Maybe cold water is good for the bleeding (or bad, depending on your point of view).
I had to get up, eventually. I knew nobody was going to come and ask me if I was ok, unless it was 3 pm, and I wasn't going to stay in bed for that long. I was wondering if my nephew was still mad. He wasn't, so I just didn't bring up the subject.
I got up all achy: feet, knee, lungs, head. The entire day I felt as if I'd just woken up, with swollen, red eyes, and some bodily heaviness hard to stand. I told them I felt a little ill (which I did), but like my heartache, they could not see the real implications. I'm always scared no one will believe me when I say something hurts, like my lungs or my knees (something very common), because there's no bruise or wound. It's just inside.
Things got better for my state of mind when we went to the zoo. The zoo depresses me, I feel sorry for the animals, and I wish some people were thrown at the lions. But I mean, at least I started to talk.
At night my brother, sister and I went to Barnes & Nobles. With my gift card I got the Yellow Submarine Songtrack, and I bought Paul McCartney's Ram, wich was very cheap. And they even gave me a $1 off of it, because there was one dollar left of my gift card.
And now, the day after...I'm here, duh. I don't know what day it is..I know, but I'll get confused. When we went to Austin I thought it was friday. And yesterday I thought it was tuesday. In this house, with this schedules, one never knows. I think we're going to San Antonio in two days. I hope not, I feel I'm still recovering, I still feel very sad. But maybe it's just me, being lame.
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