I think I spoke too soon.

Today was supposed to be a good day. It started out the same as every other day - with a small altercation between me and my mom - but that was normal. It became a great day because of my friends & our so-called Songfest practice. I'd might even venture to say that today was the most fun I've had in a while. But then, here were are, back to where we started. Yes, back to the never-ending cycle of crap that seems to be the story of my life.

Family is supposed to be our system of support. The ones that never desert us, even through the toughest challenges in our life. You taught me that family never leaves family & that, when everything else seems dark & uncertain, family is going to be the rock that keeps you stable.

Filthy liar.

Tell me now, why is my family the very reason I feel so utterly wretched right now. If family is the supposed to be my reason for living & my eternal comfort system, why does this very same family makes me want to disown myself. Why does my mom, in particular, seem to get off on getting mad at me? Why do I feel as if I'm not part of this family anymore & they'd be happy, nigh rejoiceful, if I disappeared.

Thank you, my beloved Alvarez family. With relatives like you, who needs enemies?

Isn`t the view so picturesque?

Ask me that question right now & I shall remark on your god-awful insipidity. Of course it is not picturesque. If anything, it is a sight that makes me want to throw up all the food in my stomach. To go to class everyday & see that blatant display is nothing short of tortuous ... & nauseating.

But I'm getting better. This picture, though unwelcome, is a soothing balm on my nerves. It is both distressing & comforting. Like medicine that will initially make you worse before you become so much better, if you will. The expectation of seeing this right in front of my face everyday is enough to make me want to blow off school altogether, but actually attending & seeing it is becoming more bearable each time.

The mere fact that I don't end up incessantly spouting cuss words is a marked improvement indeed.

A couple more sessions of this little torture scene & I shall, hopefully, be cured. I wait for that day with bated breath for it means that I am finally out of the shadow of the huge mistake that has painted most of my recent months in abysmally sad colours. Now, I finally see the wiseness of the advice I did not want to take 'til it was too late. Facing my demons, she said, would make me invulnerable to them. Apparently, this is true & for that, I am most thankful.

Letting out my emotions is an exercise in futility.

I`m ashamed to say this, but for the first time in ages, a cutter came near my skin again. That`s pretty much a euphemism for "I slashed one long line down my wrist" but I`ll tell you anyway. It`s alright, no one really reads this. Well, the metal was cold, but I forgot how painful it really was. After the slash was made, it did not hurt much, but now it`s throbbing. Even so, I don`t regret cutting. It distracts me from what really hurts.

Now, I reminded myself all over again. Shit. Okay, so maybe I lied. Maybe I never really forgot. Maybe the emotional pain right now is suffocating me, driving me to the now-unfamiliar throes of crying-induced asthma that I haven`t felt since I was 7. Maybe cutting hasn`t really distracted me anymore than writing this has. Maybe I never really forgot the emotional pain...and, oh, fuck, I am so angry. This feeling`s strange...like I`m a taut violin string and the lightest pressure will make me snap.

I have no gift for words & this is probably the crudest thing I have ever written, but the feelings running amok in me are primal and crude too. Raw. Animalistic. Like I just want to go inside my tormentor`s room and rip her eyeballs out with my long, light blue fingernails. Fist her hair and smash her head against the headboard of that too-big bed. It`s sick that I get so much pleasure from daydreaming about this right now & if I wasn`t in such a horrendous mood, I would probably be disgusted...but not now. Now, I just want her to be tortured, maybe like the poor Japanese girl who underwent 44 days of torture. That would be hell on earth, but that still would not be enough.

My eyes are itchy now that I`ve cried my tear ducts dry. I can`t even breathe through my nose because it`s clogged. My lips are dry. It even hurts when I lick them. Ohmygod, the table where my computer sits has so many memories from before this pain. Why can`t I imagine a time when everything was better? All I can see right now is this red-hot poker stirring my insides.

Beside my left hand is the list of things we ordered from Yellowcab a mere 3 hours ago. Hard to believe that 3 hours ago, I was laughing. How did this all happen so fast? Beside the mouse is the glass of water I remember filling at the dinner table downstairs. Oh yes, we were all cracking jokes then. Amazing how our family dynamic could change in so little time.

What scares me most is I don`t know how this happened. It wasn`t supposed to be like this...& now that I think about it, I am the person I hate most right now. I hate myself more than my torturer, because, in the end, this is all my doing. Yes, that`s probably why I cut myself. Damn it, I wish that when I climbed over that silly gate, I fell on the ground, broke my spine & died. Would that be a bad thing to wish? Maybe then, I wouldn`t be feeling so dead inside.

Wow, this is long. I just read everything I wrote & it all just comes of as the whiny rant of a suicidal bitch. Yup, no talent for writing here. Just letting it all out.

Remember New Moon? The book by Stephenie Meyer where Bella spends most of her time crying about some painful hole in her chest? I used to laugh at that book, think about how silly & exaggerated it was...but not anymore. In a way, that is exactly how I feel right now. Broken in so many pieces that I have to hug myself in order to make sure I`m in one piece. Am I? I don`t know...

I used to relate this kind of physical pain to boys. Yes, it`s a dull ache in my chest, the feeling I always associate to the word "heartbreaking". I thought this kind of pain was for relationships...like, when someone cheats on you or the boy you loved most gives up on you. But no, I was wrong. My heart is breaking because of my mistakes right now & the consequences I have to face. It`s probably not all my fault & my torturers are overreacting, in my point of view...but, whatever happens, I`m going to carry the total weight of this on my shoulders. This is no laughing matter; the consequences are dire. I may have single-handedly ruined what was left of my pitiful relationship with my mom. My parents` trust is now irrevocably lost, not that it was ever with me in the first place.

What will I do now? How will I move from here? It`s 12.24 AM, but I`m selfishly wishing that someone can drive all the way here, wipe my tears away and hug me tight. Not letting go as I sob the whole damn story on his or her shoulder. And I would give the world for that person to be my mother, so that I can tell her how much I love her & how sorry I am for being the black sheep of the family. But that will never happen because our huge pride is a family trait. If only she can read this, but, as computer-illiterate as she is, that is impossible.

Oh, God...I am so scared. I just want to die. You probably did not understand the whole idea of this blog entry, but it`s okay. My advice to you is to just forget all about what you read & smile, because your life is so much better than the pitiful remnants of mine.

This has been too long, I feel like I should stop. Hundreds of words, ranting on & on, have been written. This was an exercise to make me feel better...but do I? Even marginally? I don`t know. I can`t think straight. Maybe I will do better tomorrow, when everything is a bit clearer. Or maybe I`ll do better after a bottle of wine & a pack of Reds, when everything is blurrier. I suppose I shall try both tomorrow. For now, I better find some Band-Aids to cover the gash on my inner arm. I may be falling apart, but that`s not reason enough to make anyone else worry.

Well, goodnight. I hope you had a better day than mine...though I don`t see how anyone could have it worse. Sleep well.

Will you know my name if I saw you in heaven?

Good morning, Lola. It`s your apo here, Vida. It`s been so long since I last saw you & spoke to you & I`m sorry for disturbing you right now...but there`s something I have to tell you.

Remember the last time we talked, lola? I remember it like it was yesterday. I was in the kitchen & I heard a noise coming from your room. When I went there, you were pointing at something on the ceiling. You look so scared, lola. I didn`t know what to do so I tried to comfort you by holding your hand. "It`s nothing. No one`s there.", I reassured you. But what did I know?

That was the last time I ever saw you alive. That was the last time I ever got to hold your hand. I didn`t even manage to hug you; I didn`t even try my best to make you feel better. In my mind, all I wanted to do was leave. I didn`t even tell you that I love you.

I`m so sorry, lola. Really. Everytime I saw you, I would tell you that I love you...but that last day, I didn`t. & it`s killing me that the last image I remember of you was a frightened old lady, lying in bed alone. You should`ve been happy & I should`ve done more, lola. I should`ve visited you more & told you more. We should`ve had more happy times together. There was so much we haven`t done yet... I didn`t want you to leave.

& since you left, I`ve been plagued with guilt. You`re one of the best people I know & you did not deserve to be put aside, forgotten. Since I was born, you`ve supported me in every way possible. I have no bad memory of you, lola. Even when I was at my loneliest & most depressed, you were there for me. Remember when I cried `cause no one wanted to sit with me at the plane & you gave up your comfy First Class seat to be with me in Business? That made my whole vacation. I swear, I don`t deserve the level of kindness & love that I recieved from you, my own grandmother. I wasn`t able to repay you at all...and I am so, so, so sorry.

But it`s done & you`re gone... No amount of tears & prayers will turn back time or bring you back, no matter how much I want them to... I just hope that from heaven (`cause I`m sure that you`re there), you can see this hastily written letter & you`ll forgive me. I love you always & forever, & I promise that I`ll never forget you.

Love,
Vida

I hoped I would never have to say this.

You would have to give up all else,
I alone would expect to be your sole & exclusive standard,
Your novitiate would even then be long & exhausting,
The whole past theory of your life & all conformity to
the lives around you would have to be abandon`d.
Therefore, release me now, before troubling yourself any further,
let go your hand from my shoulders.
Put me down & depart on your own way.

- Walt Whitman

It saddens me to say this, but when you leave, it will be the end. After you leave, I will go my own way too & we will be estranged for months. We will get used to being without each other, the same way you got used to not thinking of me all those months ago. This is goodbye & this might be the final word we say. This chapter has drawn to a close in my book & that brings real tears to my eyes. To say that I did not love you would be wrong, but to say that I do love you now, the same way I did before, would be an imposition & a lie. At this moment, I can only force myself to see you as a brother -- the one I never had & the one I always wanted.

In the end, this is all I can say.
Take care. I hope you have a good life.