How did you spend summers when you were a kid?

My summers came and went very much unnoticed. Before my parents broke up and went separate ways we used to travel for the holidays, travels within the country and the narrator getting sick (that would be me), that's how my summers went. We would jump into the car and drive away. Very 90's of us.

However, no matter where we went I would get sick. And I mean really really sick, I had to be rushed to a hospital and a handful of doctors would gather around and discuss what was wrong with me, it was usually the local water, or the sun, or some mysterious bug I would catch out of nowhere, then, after the antibiotics shots, some other preventive pills and bizarre looking nurses trying so hard (and succeeding) not to be nice, I would be given back to my parents and we would start our way back home. Now that I think about it, that's probably why I only remember going to this places, but never coming back, because I was so high on fever I wasn't even aware we were traveling again.

Sickness. That's what summer time means for me. Being sick. And on top of it all, while being sick and swaying into fever induced hallucinations, there were my parent's fights.

Now, my *favourite* summers were those few remaining weeks I could spend hiding in my room with a good book between my hands. I would read for hours not even remembering to stretch from time to time. On those little and elusive periods of time I met my best friends, Papelucho, Tom Swayer, Huck Finn, Bastian Baltasar Bux and so many others I have a hard time trying to remember, mainly because I would read more encyclopedias than narrative books.

Boy, I wish it was summer already, but not the real summer, but those summers from before, when things were simple and everything was new and fresh.

I'm so tired of being here.

Dad was just here and mum flipped out. I let my self rest in the breeze for a while, outside, just by the door, listening to her rant and how much she hates my father. I'm tired of her, I'm tired of all of them.. I think I'm gonna start doing a few thing to avoid reality for a while... but I'm still not sure, may be is just the antibiotics talking, who knows... I've been feeling like crap lately, ha! ALL the bloody time, lots and lots of water and other prescription drugs... colds suck! and they certainly have a way to ruin your mood.

I have to go now 'cause I have to write a paper for my psychology class, which by the way sucks... As soon as I figure out how to get transferred to PUCV I'm out of here.

My mum finally kicked my pseudo-step father out of the house and now I know she's lying to me, I know he'll be back.

Mummy thinks I'm selfish because I'm thinking about how much I don't like him instead of her interests and her love life.

You know what I think? I think he'll be back within six months and I'll have to runaway to have a better life quality.

Yeah, mummy is worth shit.

And nothing else, I just thought someone might want to know.

I've been wanting to speak with you, however timing is not my best skill, I always do it the wrong way in front of the wrong crowd, therefore I decided to write you, I decided to make you "listen" even if you don't want to. I'm even making it as short as possible for you. So, here I go.

Sometimes I get the feeling that you hate me, I mean, I'm there, you're there, we're both there, but your mind is a thousand miles away from where we are and every time I do something, whatever that is, you mock me... sorry, but in my language, that's not what real friends do.

Plus, I'm getting all this crossed signals from you; sometimes you love me, some other times you hate me and the rest of the time you just ignore me, but the real problem I have, is that I like you and I like to hang out with you, what I don't like is when you go to that zone where you think the only way to connect with people is by mocking them, your other friends might be strong enough to deal with it, but I'm not. I hate to point it out like this, but you might have notice I'm more vulnerable than the average 19 years-old person and I have my feelings on the surface of my skin; just because you know me and I trust you, you can see right through me, no games and no masks are between us from my side.

Yes, I know you have feelings too, just like I know that you hide them because you're afraid to get hurt, but... but what I'm trying to say is that I hate when you forget we are not all the same, that not all of us are able to hide our feelings, that not all of us have this thick shells to defend our selves; some of us are just defenseless, I'm defenseless with out my friends, I'm defenseless without you- and when you, my dear friend, start picking on me, hurts a lot more than when a person who doesn't even know me does. You helped me through so much, you have given me a lot and I know for a fact that you love me, so please, stop hurting me, stop acting like everything is OK, because is not, I'm not like all the rest of your friends, I'm different, so please don't treat me like you treat them, don't treat me like I don't care for you, like I don't care what happens outside of my head, like I don't have anything to lose, because I do... I can lose you.

I'm not here, out to get you, I just want to help you take that shell away from your soul, I know you want to, you told me once, several years ago, remember? So now, it doesn't matter if you don't remember or if you won't, 'cause I do. I want to help you realize that feeling love, care, sadness, happiness, jealousy, anger even disappointment is good too. I want to help you be a better person 'cause you make me want to be a better person myself. I want to be your friend. And you know what, I think we have made a great breakthrough, 4 years ago you wouldn't  have dreamt about saying someone that you loved him (or her) and there you go, less than 3 months ago you did and it felt great, didn't it? I was there too and it felt great hearing that from you, but lets not stop there, there's a whole world outside and you don't have to make that jump alone if you don't want to.

You know, I've never told you this, but I have this recurrent dream; we're graduating from college and most of the faces I see are people I don't recognize, one or two recall vague memories and the rest is people that I guess, we have met along the way, but there you are and I'm there too, cheering up for you (I'll never get tired of doing that, 'cause you make me proud). We don't say a word, but you know I'm proud and i know you're proud too. I want to make this happen. I want to hug you in joy and hold you in tears if necessary... but I don't know if I'll be able to if you don't start to reciprocate some of the love and affection I show you. You don't have to say "I love you too" or throw the house through the window because I gave you a toy that looked like you, you don't do that and it's fine, it's who you are and I respect that, but if you could just look me in the eye when I give you a peck on the cheek or smile back when I smile to you, that would be great, 'cause if you don't, I don't know how long I can keep this going. You see, in life we have to cultivate our relationships, whether they are from friendship, marriage or parenthood, we cultivate them to make them grow, we cultivate them to make them strong. And all this cultivation doesn't happen alone by just watching, we have to get our hands dirty, it's a group work and in this case, "group" stands for you and me, babe, we're here to take over the world, but we can't do it alone.

"Cultivate relationships we must". I bet Yoda would have said that in a heart beat if he knew about us.

I know you know this, but I'll say it anyway, just in case; I'm not tired of you. And I know you're not tired of me, because if you were, God knows you would tell me in the worst possible manner. So? What are we waiting for, what's stopping us? Lets do this thing, lets be "great", lets be the best people we can be. Like the song said, I have mustered every ounce of confidence I have, I'm ready to jump, the question is, are you?

I've been writing a lot lately, except I haven't been writing here nor in my blog or anything that has some relation with my life, the real one. It's probably because I've been feeling a little bit down in the sense I can hardly pick up a pencil, the machines working around the clock outside and the voices in my head are just too much noise to concentrate, which at the same time is ironic coming from the girl that can be blasting her ears off with some rock japanese band, listening the TV from the far end of the house, playing guitar and writing a little bit of espionage fiction. Uh... that's the way I work, but add some noise that's out of my leash and I'm a worthless non-writer piece of cr*p.

As the days keep going by, because obviously they would never stop (silly, silly time), my personal blogs and this journal it self, decay. I made a new lay for my blog and it turn out to be awful, an insult to graphic design, I want to print it out so I can tear it up and throw it in the trash can. That would do wonders to my unexpressed frustration, on the other hand, I'm to lazy (and way too frustrated) to go back to photoshop and start a new theme, notepad has gotten the best designer-years of me.

However, it seems only fair for the oh-so-few readers in here to tell you what I've been up to lately.

I presented my SATs, well, PSU... but you know what I mean. And I actually got great scores, except that I needed excellent, not great. I'll have to settle for my second choice college and apply for a transfer next semester,  at least I know I can get a letter of recommendation from a friend who happens to be a "friend" of the headmaster of the college I want in. I'll let you know how that goes.

My Christmas' eve and New Year's eve sucked altogether, so no comments about it. Other than that things have been peachy enough to contemplate the roof in search of a logical course of action in case I loose my legs playing basketball (sport that I do not play) in the street (place where I do not go) on a rainy day (it's a hot summer indeed), needless to say I've been bored out of my mind.

In the friends department I have to say that certain girl has my completely fed up with her hypocrite attitude, because she's not even hypocrite she's a little bit cynical too and those two features combined are just too much for me. On the bright side, I've been talking to my imaginative friend and we're both writing an on-line saga, mine is about espionage, his is about fantasy and angels. I must warn you, the language is Spanish and Spanish only, I'll leave the URLs at the bottom anyway.

I received a call last monday from UNAB, a private university, to let me now I had been accepted there; sad, because I don't want to go there and I take it as a sign of God, He's telling me I won't get accepted else-where so I might as well just give up now and go there, to be honest, it hurts a little. He, the big fairy being of the oh-so-mighty sky shall be proven wrong by this tinny little girl that I've become, take my word on that.

To finish my small and humble entry I'm thinking about saying that I want to become a rock star and live forever, but that probably is a little too over the top, so I'll just answer Outsider's comment: Man, I'm looking for love, sympathy, a course of action, a mainstream to not follow, an indie life to please, anger to destroy the good, sadness to grieve over the bad, tears to cry over the unrepairable, the joy of life, a deep thought and by all means, myself. Satisfied?

You may think this is silly, and maybe it is, but every time I hit this part of the year, I get urgent needs to kill my self. December, January and March. Why march? Easy answer, my birthday.  It takes me a few months to get my act back together and then, a couple of months and it's christmas all over again.

I think it's because I can't stand the excesive cheerness of people, even if they're faking it. Family and friends usually expect too much from me. I'm not peppy, I hate more than 5 christians at the time, do not ask me to be happy for parties or holidays, they just take me out of my well arranged routine and nothing else.

Presents?? I do like presents, but not because you have to give them to me, in that case I like to rip off the paper and nothing else, if it's plastic paper then you're sooooooo screwed.

I hate so much this days that I don't even feel like ranting!!! How can that be?! I live for this crap.... any way.

Au revoir, I'm off to kill a few fake santas.

The closer I get to the PSU (Chilean SAT), the more nervous I get. I don't know a thing about maths, physics, chemistry, history... and don't even get me started on biology! I think I'm gonna cheat on that exam, is not like I have that much to lose, if I get caught they'll throw me out, I'll probably have to pay a fine, then I'll go off to some community college and study something lame that would make a truly bitter grown-up, au contraire, if I don't get caught, then I'll go to the university of my choice and fail there... again.

Every day I wake up and think about another topic I'm supposed to know and haven't studied and my parents keep telling me "Oh, but you're smart, you'll do fine.., I bet you get one of the highest scores", then why do I feel I'm off to disappoint my parents all over again? I'm already a failure, all this test's going to do is telling me how much of a failure I really am, it's going to translate my failure-ness into more legible numbers, that way all the other losers and I, can compare with each other. "Oh, but you got into USM two years ago, thats harder than get into PUCV", what they always seem to forget is that year USM was running short on cash and we were the second breed to take the PSU, so the scores were unbelievably low, the only reason I got in, was because the stupid University decided to open up more class rooms!!! I was 57 on an 80 people class, when usually USM only opens up 50 vacants.

Bloody hell, I am so screwed....

Not to mention the boy I thought I like just got serious with his college sweet heart, they fucking deserve each other... that wasn't supposed to sound so hostile, they do deserve each other, they get along great and lets face it, we wouldn't make a very good couple, I'm insane for Christ's sake!! What kind of a girlfriend would I be?

Damn... I'm dying inside.

Dear Santa:

I've been as good as I can be and I've given all I have to give, so here it is, the only present I need from you for Christmas. I need someone who allows me to love him (or her, I don't mind), I need someone who doesn't flinch with my hugs or my demonstrations of affection. I need someone who can laugh with me about nothing and stare at the sky and feel tiny. I need someone who would let me pet his/her hair and doesn't feel the need to put a label to it, I don't want to be a girlfriend, I don't want to be a gay/bi/straight friend, I just want to be me and this said someone to be him/her self.

I know it's impossible, I know is asking too much, I know it would be unfair to this "someone", but that's what I want and what I need. What can I do about it? No matter how much I hug my self when I cry it always feels better when is someone else who wraps you around his/her arms.

If I ever end up killing my self I just hope the few friends I still got don't feel  responsible or guilty about it, it was never their duty to love me and give me all the affection and care I can't get at home, in fact, it was always been an honor to be their friend and I've felt a lot of love by just being around them, is just.. I have too much of not enough. Whatever it is I have to give I need it twice back... If I give a kiss I need two from them, If I throw a blunt object to their heads I need all of their anger to become love and for them to give me twice that amount of love. Is unfair to everyone... is not the right thing to do and is next to impossible.

However, just for this once, would you please, please, please send me a friend that can be all that?

Love,
Narkito.

PS: You have my address from last time, not to be a bother, but you still ow me that gift.

This weekend we celebrated a friend's birthday on another friend's house. We had a blast! We had so much fun is almost hard to describe, at least for me. We played the guitar, sang ol' love songs and played the ol' tunes, we even sang backstreet boys songs, well, they did, I don't really know the lyrics, but I hummed all the way through.

At 3:30 AM we went outside and looked at the stars whilst they stared back, the host went back inside rather quickly because he had a bad cold and soon after her mum followed. Outside, the rest of us just kept admiring the huge black sky above us with twinkling little stars, although nothing could be further from the truth, the stars are not little, we are, in a cosmic sense we're nothing and the stars are everything. The entire universe was created from a series of explosions, the stardust condensed into elements and thus we became alive. If much, instead of nothing, we're stardust.

Around 4:30 AM, we decided it would be nice to go and get some sleep, all the other guests had gone whilst birthday boy, the host's sister and I were outside talking about or lives and how scared we were of the future. Birthday boy's girlfriend left with her cousin and her friend, hair kid left soon after and law-school boy left with him. We went inside and cleaned up a little bit, the host was already putting away all the alcohol we hadn't drank, around four bottles of a poisonous variety of liquids. I hugged the host, my dearly beloved friend, very tight; we haven't seen each other for almost a year, therefore he wasn't reluctant at all, which was a nice change from last time. He put his jacket around me and led me to his room, where his sister and birthday boy were talking about on-line games and other freak shows, so my friend and I went to the guest room and started discussing the sleeping distribution. Since I'm afraid of the dark my only request was to sleep with someone else in the room, I refused to sleep alone. "Only God knows what kind of creature can come here and eat me or tickle me until I scream", I said. Host boy didn't looked like a believer, but decided to put away his thoughts and collapsed in the bed, actually, he didn't put away his thoughts, he was just too sleepy to grasp a thought long enough.

"You smell like cigarettes", he said.

"Want me to go and clean up?"

"Would you?"

"For you I would"

"Please"

This came from the guy who used to smoke a cigarette or two to avoid the heavy smell of rum and too much wine on his clothes. Unbelievable. But I complied, he's the only person that can boss me around, mainly because he hardly ever does it. I complied.

I changed my cardigan for a sweater, washed my face and hands (up to my elbows), with soap and brushed my teeth.

"My hair won't stop smelling like smoke, sorry"

"Is OK... thanks"

I lied down next to him and started to shiver in cold, putting on a cold sweater wasn't really helping. He shifted positions, covered me with his jacket and held my hands.

"Think warm"

"I'm trying"

I started petting his hair and butterfly-kissing him; you know, when your eye lashes make contact and both of you blink; is very nice and we used to do it a lot back in high school. There we were, butterfly kissing and nose rubbing, playing like the brats we both know we are, just having some fun and trying to avoid the cold.

He asked me how I was doing and I told him the only truth that occurred to me, "I'm not great, but I no longer want to die, I'm not doing excellent, but I'm better than how I was in school", I know is not entirely true, but at the moment it was my only truth. He seemed pleased with it, almost happy, and I got that fuzzy feeling that comes with joy.

"I'm so afraid of losing you", his voice was soft, almost tiny.

"You won't... you'll never lose me”. We hugged again and shift a little to be more comfortable. That entire night was about shifting positions and the warm fuzzy feeling.

I was shivering intensely so he pulled me closer, I hid my head in his neck and took a deep breath, I just love the way he smells, is like a flowery fragrance, very attractive and sexy, but girly enough to make it perfect. Later that day I found out it was Fahrenheit eau de toilette and that his mum buys it for him, he's such a mama's boy that is almost cute, but I'm going too forward with this, is a tangent.

I asked him about school, if he was happy this time, since last year had been so hard and he had ended dropping out. He was, he's in love with his career and doing well, I'm so proud of him; few people believe me when I say this, but I'm proud of my friends and their accomplishments, in a way that only someone who loves you could; most of the times, when they're happy, I'm happy. After that, I carried on petting his hair; I know he likes that, especially behind the ear, just like a cat, I know if he was in fact a cat, he would've purred, but he didn't, he's not a cat.

I moved closer to rub my nose against his and then, out of nowhere, I kissed him, a small peck on the lips. He looked dreamy and smiled, then we went back to talk about high school. From time to time some parts of birthday boy and host's sister's conversation would slip in and we would laugh about how much they love on-line games.

I was still quivering, so he told me to put my self under the covers, I did and asked him to do it too, he already had a cold, I didn't want him to get worse, I guess he thought that was inappropriate, 'cause he didn't, instead he covered him self with his jacket and cuddled with me, my arm under his head and his right hand holding mine, the fuzzy feeling floating in the air. To share such a perfect moment like that is like tasting a piece of heaven.

Our noses where touching and the tips of my hair were tangling with his, he leaned closer to me and I kissed him again, except this time wasn't so innocent, but something made him come to his senses and soon after he clutched his eyes shut very hard and said "no".

"Is OK, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have..." I apologized.

"Don't worry, is just...."

"No, no explanations, is OK... come here" I seriously didn't want him to feel bad about it, no explanations needed.

We remained in perfect silence for a while, slowly drifting into much wanted sleep.

A sonorous kiss coming from the room in front of us broke the silence, host's sister was tired and decided to go to bed, she came to the guest room and said her goodbyes to us. Birthday boy came along too and asked about our sleeping distribution. My friend quickly shifted into "host" mode and decided we were all going to sleep in his bedroom, his bed is in fact a bunk bed, so there we were, all settled. I was offered to sleep with either host boy or birthday boy; I chose host boy because he has the top bed and I like to be on top. Birthday boy teased us saying that if we were going to have sex he would gladly go to the guest room, but we should say it immediately, because once he was asleep he wouldn't be so understanding if we woke him up for that, not so long after he offered a few condoms he had in his bag, we all laughed about it and made more daring jokes, like me, I started moving the top bed to make some noise and we all started laughing hysterically again.

I think it was 6 AM when birthday boy finally fell to sleep and host boy and I started talking to each other about our lives. I can't remember which one of us started it, although it was probably me, but we were kissing again. Is hard to write about it right now, no that this led to a sexual encounter of any sorts, but because I don't know who'd ever believe me that it didn't, not to mention that I'm not the kind of person who kisses and tell, but that was such an especial night, it's been so long since I had someone so emotionally naked in front of me. This friend, my friend, never says thinks like "I love you" or "I care a lot about you" and he's far from "I don't know what I would do with out you", but that night on that bed he said that and a lot more.

"Can you imagine how nice it would be to wake up each morning to something like this? I mean, right here, right now, next to you; I feel safe. Can you imagine how it would be like to have this each morning for the rest of our lives, have someone to hold, someone to whisper 'I love you' in the middle of the night...?” He was on his back staring at the ceiling, a soft glitter on his eye; he was thinking about it, he wanted that too.

His breathing slowing down, his muscles relaxing. He turns his head to face me, we lock eyes for a second or two and he smiles, then he goes back to the ceiling.

At one point he looked really sad and upset. I asked him what was the problem, but he never talks about his feelings, he usually swallows everything he feels and suffers alone. I was kind of worried 'cause he looked like he was going to cry.

"Is everything all right? Are you OK?" He shook his head.

No, he wasn't fine at all. It took me almost 20 minutes, but after a while of soft caressing he finally said: "I feel like I took advantage of the situation, I shouldn't have kissed you, you're such a beautiful person and I..." A tear crossed his cheek.

"No, sweetie, not at all. Did I ever said 'no'? Was I complaining? You didn't took advantage, it's what I wanted and quite frankly I thought you wanted it too"

"I do... I do, is just you're such a beautiful person and I love you so much. I don't want to hurt you, I don't want to ever hurt you"

"Oh sweetie, you haven't and you won't. Please tell me, what can I do to make you feel better? What can I do for you?"

"Just get well and be happy, I don't care if you never become a great professional or a doctor or anything like that, I will always be proud of you, no matter what, I love you, you are my best friend I just want what's good for you"

"I will, I'll get better, it might take long, but I will, don't worry. And sweetie, you have given me all you had to give, I can't ask for more"

"I love you"

"Love you too" Long pause. Some light coming from the window, birthday boy sleeping like a log in the bed below us "It's funny you know, you wouldn't believe how much I wanted to hear those three little words back in high school, how much I wanted to hear them from you and now, I had to kiss you and make you feel all wrong about it for you to say them"

"But I loved you back then too! You know I did! Still do"

"Of course I knew, but is nice to hear it from time to time"

"Well, I love you very much"

"I love you very very very very very much too"

"Always exaggerating"

"Always underplaying it"

"Oh, shut up"

"You shut up!"

"No, seriously, shut up, I want to get some sleep" A smirk. He always wears a smirk when he's having fun.

"Like hell I am, I'm not sleepy at all, if I don't sleep, no-one will"

"Would you please shut up?"

"If I can't talk, what can I do to keep you awake?"

"Nothing, that's the beauty of it"

Tickle, tickle, tickle, laughing, tickle, laughing, nose rubbing. The covers tangled on our legs, the birds singing outside, both of us smiling.

"Hey, can I ask you a question?" Some how I had gotten on top of him and I was using my position to take some time off from the tickles.

"Why did you said 'no' back in the guest room?"

"My angels and demons were fighting and the angels were winning"

"So I see... Is it okay if I kiss you one more time?"

"Please do"

His hands were lost between the back of my neck and my back, that's when I noticed his t-shirt, it was hilarious, it said "*ALMOST* HANDSOME" I asked him what was up with the t-shirt and he said that a few months ago, whilst he was at the mall with his friends, the cashier at McDonald's had asked him the same question and he had turned into his "horny" mode and started hitting on the poor girl. That's the kind of people this employees have to put up with. This is the kind of friend I have.

"Oh boy, we would be such a lousy couple" He made a face that was supposed to mean 'why?' "Because you're so horny and I'm so not, at all, and that is just the beginning" He giggled a little.

"You're so cool" He said. Sincere eyes locking with mine.

"What do you mean? Why?"

"Look at me, you have me shivering, girl, I have never felt this way before"

"How come? When you kiss with passion you always feel kind of dizzy and sometimes like you're about to cry..." All I got in return was a blank face "Have you ever kissed someone with that much feeling?"

"Yeah"

"Who?"

"You"

"If I ever write a memoir, I promise I'll write about this”

I made my mother cry, again, my father is pissed because I didn't want to go to his stupid birthday in his stupid house with his stupid new wife, my grandparents are angry because I'm an "embarrassment" to the family; no school, no job, no life.

I don't have any friends when I need them, but when they need me I'm always for them...  yeah!!! This one is also for you, son of a bitch, thanks for calling.

Well screw it! I've already pushed away one and lost another, it doesn't really matter if I just cut my relationship with all of them now, that way no one will have to loose time telling me how much of a beautiful person I am, we all know I'm not, but we're keeping quiet for who-knows-whom's sake.

Tomorrow I have my last interview with the psychiatrist, I'm thinking about not showing up and seek for some dope instead, I have almost 25 thousand that wouldn't mind being spend in the nearest drugstore... or drug dealer, if I happen to find one.

My grandparents are right, though, I am a complete failure, I can't even study properly for christ's sake, I can't concentrate nor stay focused for more than an hour and even then I can't understand what I'm reading, there's no way I can get into college like this, my mum said I would have to get a job then, she's right.... but I don't want to.... I would rather die than doing something that I don't want to... than doing something that would only make me more miserable.

Can't you fucking see that when you despise me the most, the most I need to be loved?

Black box recorder - Child psychology

I stopped talking when I was six years old
I didn't want anything more to do with the outside world
I was happy being quiet
But, of course, they wouldn't leave me alone
My parents tried every trick in the book
From speech therapists to child psychologists
They even tried bribery
I could have anything
As long as I said it out loud

Life is unfair, kill yourself or get over it
Life is unfair, kill yourself or get over it

Of course this episode didn't last forever
I'd made my point and it was time to move on
To peel away the next layer of deceit
And see what new surprises lay in store
My school report said I showed no interest
"A disruptive influence"
I felt sorry for them in a way
And when they finally expelled me
It didn't mean a thing

Life is unfair, kill yourself or get over it
Life is unfair, kill yourself or get over it

(At that time she stopped what she was doing, she stopped playing. She stared, she had the facial grimicing, and then the psychiatrist was saying, "Julie, Julie, can you hear me? Can you open your eyes? Can you stick out your tongue?" And all of a sudden, Julie struck out.)

The November day when I came home
The Christmas decorations were already up
Spray on snow, coloured flashing lights
And an artificial tree that played Silent Night
Over and over again
My parents welcomed me with loving arms
But within an hour were back at each others throats
Normal, happy childhood back on course
Batteries not included

Life is unfair, kill yourself or get over it
Life is unfair, kill yourself or get over it
Life is unfair, kill yourself or get over it
Life is unfair, kill yourself or get over it

This month has already been hard enough and promises to be even harder, I have to get a brain scan next week because I've been having excruciating headaches for almost a month, including a few not-so-friendly hallucinations, apparently, I may have a tumour, quite honestly, I couldn't care less about it, in fact, I'm kind of hoping for an inoperable malignant one, so I can shuffle off this life at last, if I do have a tumour and they (doctors) tell me that I have less than a 50% of survival after surgery and quimo I'm not going with any of them, I don't want to sound morbid, but I'm kind of hoping to have cancer and finally die, I'm so tired of being here.

Like I've said a thousand times before, I've had too much of not enough.

Are you afraid of living? I know I am.

Sometimes I would like to kill my parents so they would shut up for a while, I want to kill them, except that I don't want them dead. 

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Once, in high school I told the counselor that I was going to bring a gun to school and shoot him. I meant it. I did it... no, I didn't kill him, but I did bring a gun to school. It was like testing grounds, carrying a gun in the classroom gives you power. Some obnoxious kid is bothering you... BANG, he's dead; the teacher says something inappropriate... BANG, she's dead; one of the authorities is asking me to be a better student or I'm out... BANG, he's dead. None of them cared enough about me, about what I was feeling, none of them wandered why I was behaving like that, now, they're dead, in my head they're dead. I killed them and I enjoyed killing them. 

I'm scaring the soul out of me... BANG, I'm dead too.

I was probably 15 when that happened. I sat in a corner in the back of the class room and held the gun inside my pocket, I wanted to shoot, but I didn't want them to die, I didn't do it. Not there.

/
/

I've had a gun in my mouth a few times, I've only pulled the trigger once, the "safe" stopped me, I didn't have the courage to do it again.

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Do you know what is like to put up with people's expectations and disappointments every single day? Every single day, every single day... every single day...

Every.
--------Single.
-------------------Day.

Do you?

                Do you? 

     Do you?

                               Do you?

                                                       Do you?

                 Do you?

Do you?

/
/

I was never pushed around, people feared me, don't really know why, they just did. And I used it to help others that weren't so "lucky", I use(d) their fear to protect them.

You know, when you have a gun in your hand people is nice to you, they respect you. I wander why they didn't respect you before; it would've been easier, it would've been better, it would've been right.

BANG, BANG, you're dead.

Half of what I've written is true, the other half is not, you decide which is what, I'm done in here.

Have you ever heard the term "my other half"? Well, is usually associated with "love" in its most romantic form, and I mean romantic in the broad sense of the word.

When I think about my other half I don't think about this mysterious, dreamy person who's waiting for me in the other side of the world nor the coffee shop around the corner; when I think about my other half I think about my second personality, I think about that "other" girl who's behind the keyboard right now reading what I'm writing, I think about my other character; I think about the mask behind the woman and the woman behind the mask. A little confusing, isn't? Well, welcome to my mind, if the title of this journal didn't tip you off, now you can be sure.

There is a song of master Placebo that reminds me of my other half, it's called "Passive Aggressive" and goes like this:

It's in your reach
Concentrate
It's in your reach
Concentrate
If you deny this
Then it's your fault
That God's in crisis
He's over

It's in your reach
Concentrate
It's in your reach
Concentrate
If you deny this
Then it's your fault
That God's in Crisis
He's over

Every time I rise I see you falling
Can you find me space inside your bleeding heart
Every time I rise I see you falling
Can you find me space, find me space

It's in your reach
Concentrate
It's in your reach
Concentrate
If you deny this
Then it's your fault
That God's in Crisis
He's over

Every time I rise I see you falling
Can you find me space inside your bleeding heart
Every time I rise I see you falling
Can you find me space inside your bleeding heart
It falls apart
It falls apart
Falls apart

Every time I rise I see you falling
Can you find me space inside your bleeding heart
Every time I rise I see you falling
Can you find me space inside your bleeding heart
It falls apart
It falls apart
Falls apart 

Its very repetitive, I know, and a total waste of space, however, I just love it. Especially when it says "every time I rise I see you falling", that's the perfect beauty of having more than one inside, they can never be together; the eternal paradox of a broken mind in repair. Not enough glue my dear, never enough glue.

I don't want to make any of you feel little when talking to me, however I manage to do exactly that all the fricking time, what the fuck's wrong with me-- wait, no, scratch that.

What the hell is wrong with you!

PS: I refuse to become a working member of society. This place is way to annoying to colaborate on making it worse.

Did you know I rehearse through the whole day how to say that I'm sorry?

But what am I saying!? of course you don't, I haven't told you, not even once, how sorry I am. I think about it every day, but -yes, there is always a "but"- you won't hear, you don't want to understand and I don't want to inflict any more pain in you or me.

So here: I'm sorry for all the things I put you through.

When people ask me if there's any record of mental disease in my family I tend to hesitate. Truth is I'm the first person in my family to be treated; we are all crazy, in one way or the other, but still I'm the only one who's currently in full therapy and by full therapy I mean being treated by a psychiatrist and a psychologist at the same time.

I feel like a designated driver, but the other way around, instead of being the one sober, I'm the one who's utterly trashed and a little bit more, therefore I go to therapy in representation of my entire crazed family. As long as I'm in treatment they can do whatever they want and pass as "normal". I, in the other hand, will be judge for the littlest faux pas I make. Kind of funny, isn't it?

Wait.

I know what you're thinking. "But isn't your mum taking pills as well?", yes, she is, but- sadly enough- self medication is the rule in my family. I can thank a few generations back for my monstrous liver. 

My mother may be taking pills prescripted by a neurosurgeon, however as long as she doesn't go to a shrink she can stay in the "sane" side of the river.

The other day a doctor asked me if there was any mental illness record in my family. You can all imagine what my reaction was; I couldn't stop giggling, I just couldn't help to think about my grandfather on my father's side, who cries over classical music and needs to have the last word of everything, even if that means humiliating his wife and friends, then, there was my uncle, who thinks being honest goes hand by hand with being brutal, he's the one that first told me I was responsible for my mother's sickness, there's also my grandmother on my mum's side who takes pills before she's sick; she, my mum and her sisters often talk in the living room, they all talk at the same time and do extensive monologues about what's bothering them, the thing is they never listen to each other. My other grandfather, may he rest in peace, was a long term anorexic who died of cancer, smoking and drinking were his favorite hobbies, that and hitting his kids and wife. My mum's brother is almost 36 now, and he looks and acts like he's 15, he has 2 kids, one with his ex and the other with his current partner, he also has a few mistresses who buy him clothes and music instruments; the entire family has taken a vow of silence about this for the sake of the kids, deep down we all know that he just can't handle any sort of responsibility. My father's brother used to lock him self in the bath room when my mum and father were dating, he would cry for hours because he didn't want to lose his big brother, he was 20 years old. A distant cousin hit his son in the head and cracked his skull open because he wanted to see where the ideas started. A distant relative drove off a bridge one day, apparently God had told him to do so, he miraculously saved... and the list goes on and on.

 So the question remains, is there any mental disease record in my family? I bet there is!