[…]  A religion teacher I had, tried to help me once and told me this story:

There was once a town, with a church and a priest that was so kind and devoted, everyone thought of him as a saint. Once it rained so much that the town flooded they tried to evacuate the town, but the priest was not willing to do so himself. He had been such a good person that he knew god will save him. So then when the water was 1m high a man in a boat came and told him to jump in so he would be saves, but the priest told him that he wouldn’t, because god will save him.

Then when water was over 3m high a helicopter came to rescue the priest that was swimming desperately, but the priest wouldn’t get onto the ladder, he was convinced that god was going to save him for.

The water kept growing and the priest drowned.

 Once he got to heaven the first thing he said was – “god? Why didn’t you try to save me?” – God surprised, answered – “I didn’t try?First I sent the police to evacuate the zone, then I sent a boat to rescue you, and then I sent a helicopter to save your life. You were the one who didn’t want to be rescued” –

What do we learn from this story? […]

If I reach myself, I've reached heaven.

If I reach myself, I've reached heaven.

 What the hell you think you are doing?

I don’t care for anyone. Only two random people have ever captured my attention in my life and I don’t know any of them. 

I remember being with my dad in the car and one boy came to clean the windows, he was my age 12 or 13 y/o he had this…  look…  in his eyes, like if we both at the same time wished to be in each other’s place. Year later in an hotel pool a rich cute boy also my age (15-16 y/o) was there in the pool looking at the ocean and I saw a something in his eyes in his eyes... he was lonely.

I bought a Wicca book but my mom had my money so she had to buy it for me, now she is at her room looking at it and commenting it with my sisters.

I want to suicide so much... but I can’t, I’m such a coward... I've had that knife in my hand so many times for such a long time but I still don’t. I have someone that I think is worried about me, but that isn’t enough. 

(1 day late)

I read a quote about friends

I read a quote about friends, it was something like...

"You get more friends getting interested in people, than getting people interested in you"

Am I really interested in people? I was convinced I was, but now I remember to many people saying the opposite, especially my mom, she has always nagged me saying my attitude towards anything is: 

Me first, I next, and whatever it's left is for me to!

I don't think now I’m a comprehensive, empathic person, I have always thought of other guys at my school as empty, stupid, simple persons… Is there something I'm not seeing? What is it? 

This is why I can’t get any friends, I'm totally blind to other people, their thoughts and feelings, and how do I solve that? I really want to be interested in someone else's life. But I'm just not open to meet other people, because my immediate reaction is: "he is a jerk." And with the amount of jerks in this world… can you blame me?

100 years of loneliness

Some boy in the bus tried to psycho-analyze me once. He said something I'd never forget, "you fake a giggle once in a while, but you haven't really laughed in a lot, lot, of time"... It makes me think if I have ever really laughed at all.

Not long ago I wanted to be bullied really hard, having someone to push me, wedgie me and rip my underwear, kegging me in public. I was drunk with the idea of falling… low, wanted to fall as low as it was possible. Then I realized that I didn't want hate for hate’s sake, if someone wanted to keg me and wedgie me it had to be my friend. I don't want to get hazed by hate, when I got to execute my plan, I got gum in my hair, insults, comments at my back, thrown some spit papers… and realized I don't want that. Still, I want to show my underwear in public, but I want it to be with a soul mate.

What am I, An addict to rejection? Just to remember that I leaved Camilla flat proves it. I just don't help myself. I have no personality at all; all I am a copy of people I like (plus a lot of lies) you got me. I don't have a life either, because of my lack of friends I don't go out, don't know anyone, and don't do anything.

No more tears now; I will think upon revenge.

No more tears now; I will think upon revenge.

I've come to a limit. I can’t take it no more, they did it again. My ex friend, lover, crush, whatever Minos was with other of his friends and tried to pull a phone prank to me, of course I recognized their voices especially Minos's voice when he shouted "homosexual bitch". I can’t stop imagining ways to make him suffer: sticking gum in his hair, pouring paint in his back pack, revealing that I and some friends saw him and Rhadamanthys masturbating each other during class. To childish?

(1 day late)

For why persevere to exist if it is only to please the government.

Part of the pathetic  Misogynist Mass Murdered  Marc Lepine's suicide later. 

a Canadian mass murderer from Montreal, Quebec who, in 1989, murdered fourteen women, and wounded ten women and four men

Forgive the mistakes, I had 15 minutes to write this. See also Annex.

Would you note that if I commit suicide today 89-12-06 it is not for economic reasons (for I have waited until I exhausted all my financial means, even refusing jobs) but for political reasons. Because I have decided to send the feminists, who have always ruined my life, to their Maker. For seven years life has brought me no joy and being totally blasé, I have decided to put an end to those viragos.

I tried in my youth to enter the Forces as an officer cadet, which would have allowed me pos- sibly to get into the arsenal and precede Lortie1 in a raid. They refused me because antisocial. I therefore had to wait until this day to execute my plans. In between, I continued my studies in a haphazard way for they never really interested me, knowing in advance my fate. Which did not prevent me from obtaining very good marks despite my theory of not handing in work and the lack of studying before exams.

Even if the Mad Killer epithet will be attributed to me by the media, I consider myself a rational erudite that only the arrival of the Grim Reaper has forced to take extreme acts. For why persevere to exist if it is only to please the government. Being rather backward-looking by nature (except for science), the feminists have always enraged me. [...]

Sorry for this too brief letter.

Marc Lépine

Annex [list of 19 names and telephone numbers of women Lepine identified as feminists]

Nearly died today. The lack of time (because I started too late) has allowed these radical feminists to survive.

Alea Jacta Est

During our school's cultural week, we had tons and tons of free time. Sounds like a lot of fun, but it really was disappointing. Just having that kind of time without having to work or study, really opened my eyes. It was so boring!!! I guess I just realized how stupid and empty they are. They just stressed me, their stupid routines, their cake face, their lack of maturity.

I realized that life is more than school and stupid jokes. Now I see, they have absolutely no compassion or interest for anything else. They are sadist; they love blood and see other people injured. And if that’s not enough then they'll make it more bloody and cruel up to a maximum point. To hear them talk like that gave me nausea. Then the same comments come again, and again, and again, and again.

How can people forget about pain? About feelings? Is just not right. Today we were on recess and I was reading when they kicked me in the eye with a ball. It really hurt, but no one noticed what had happened, so I don’t know why I needed to get attention or somebody to get worried, so I covered my eye like if blood had come out and ran. When I got to the bathroom I saw myself in the mirror, there I was, and a looser that no one cared about. I even got some red paint form my locker and tried to make like if blood had really come out. Then I realized how pathetic it was and washed it off. I came two of them asked how I was and what had happened. They didn’t laugh, but they didn’t cared either. Just like "if he dies, Ok, if he doesn’t, its Ok I guess”.

But the truth is I can't stand people who laughs about an afghan woman who gets killed on a football stadium like my "friends" do. Sorry. 

1 day late

.. MY SOUL HAS CROSSED THE THRESHOLD OF THE END ...

 .. MY SOUL HAS CROSSED THE THRESHOLD OF THE END ...

By: Jocelyn 

https://nubevacia.blogspot.com/2007/09/mi-alma-ha-cruzado-el-umbral-del-final.html

I woke up this morning wanting to stay asleep,

the few hours in which I manage to fall asleep

They are no longer enough to end the day.

Sleepless nights analyzing my routine

they are perpetual instants for a long time.

Eternal are the minutes when I remember

the beating that life has given me.

I feel my body tired, my mind overwhelmed,

crying has fired me for months

when crossing the portal of dreams.

Every time it dawns

I feel the regret of another identical day,

I feel the annoying voices

of those who ask without paying attention to my answer.

I see the automatic smiles

of those who greet without knowing.

I think and think ... I can't stop searching

among the crowds a face

that at least makes me forget.

A cold bed, dirty dishes,

a room that seems washed out by a typhoon

they remind me that I survive alone there,

That is the cave in which I must hide

of the pack that hopes to devour my bones

when by an oversight he lets me see.

There is no heat in my words

nor less in those of that news conductor

that informs me with a worried face (fictitious by the way),

the rise of depressive states in women who like me hear him.

Now I know that I am a number, one more digit

in that superficial percentage.

Now I know that we are a number sooner or later

of a comma that is advertised red on the television.

"That he jumped into the waters of Mapocho",

"That they found her hanging from a bridge",

news that is the reflection of vague ideas

that ever turned in my mind,

and that others ... others specified.

Later the ideas continue to hint at me,

more than clear I see a scene

Of what could be my sad end

Tears gushed out like torrents

seeing that someone already thought about my fatal moment.

What else do I have then? ...

An empty house that I don't want to get to?

A lonely plate on my table that no one wants to share?

Some hugs without owners scattered around?

I fall apart as I understand my situation

And I start looking for something to hold on to

Something to fade this pain

I think the hours of lucidity are over

and I give free rein to the critic inside me.

There is nothing that encourages me to wake up

I see that loneliness entered my days

and he doesn't want to let me go.

I'm falling off a cliff that I won't be able to get out of,

the night comes again signaling my hours of wakefulness.

And I go back to hell to finish my sentence,

I return to burn the rest of my soul in its flames.

I feel his eternal fire consuming my insides

and I surrender unopposed to the assigned penalty.

I will not fly anymore ... Lucifer burned my wings,

I will no longer caress ... he himself cut my hands,

I'll never be able to kiss because he already patched my mouth

and I'll never love again because he ripped me off

Mercilessly the heart from his chest.

I'm empty and I don't stop burning

I am dry wood in the cauldron of this hell.

Dry ... dry ... empty ... collapsed,

I am a castle in ruins, trampled ... beaten down.

And I'm not even going to die anymore ...

not even that sweet pleasure will I be able to enjoy from my confinement.

So many times I was able to escape and I didn't,

so many times I was able to fly and I did not take the wind that pushed me.

Today is late ... I am burning alive at the stake

feeling the stench of my dead body,

of advanced decomposition,

of my soul boiling inside.

Alone ... with so many stones around me,

inert, inanimate, soulless matter.

And I'm going to be stone too ...

I'll be a stone after burning in hell

when I no longer have a soul,

when the few reasons that dance in my conscience escape from me.

Eternal, static, routine stone,

long-lived rock ignored by the green,

thrown off the cliff to collide with others.

Empty ... empty ... I'm falling into the void.

And I wonder when my torment will end.

I don't want to be eternal ... I don't want to ...

eternally alone ... empty ... eternally dry.

The end is no longer in my hands ...

the fire will burn me daily.

I won't be able to fly anymore ... I don't have my wings,

I will no longer be able to fly ... my wings have already been burned.

I have returned to my hell,

the sweet peace was but a second.

Today I burn in its tireless flames,

I melt in its fiery embers.

Pain has returned to my life

the devil has marked me forever,

I have a designated destination

to the bottom I will go to fall like other times.

A curse came my way

and not even God can free me from his confinement.

Joy is a submerged island

and this pity a lurking storm.

I no longer have a shield to hide

no weapons to defend my castle.

Betrayal is the fire that burns me

and tears of eternal acid flow to me.

I'm falling off the cliff

and I see that when I crash I will lose my dream.

They pushed me and they stuck knives

that when I fell I felt to the bone.

Abyss ... hell ... everything has the same name

when you have to get to the bottom.

Betrayal ... pain ... everything is the same dagger

that ends the life of my body.

I already lost my soul ...

... is burning in hell,

and I will no longer have a body

when the worms at dawn wake up in my bones ...

I'm losing control ...

I can no longer handle the strings of my life.

Loneliness has cut the brakes on my reason

I'm going to crash against the wall of your indifference.

An accident threw me to life

and a (planned) accident takes me away from it.

Accidentally today I decided the end of my path,

as if by magic a concrete idea appeared.

I lock myself up so as not to be interrupted

and I count the seconds to reach my dusk.

He gave me three hours to say goodbye.

Nine o'clock is a wise time to start.

An hour grooming my future remains,

another to write this letter

and the third to consummate my thoughts.

At twelve ... at twenty-four ...

twenty-four steps to cross the last threshold,

twelve sighs before finishing it all.

I am sailing in a small red sea

trapped by small tiles in a cold bathroom.

The show is going to end,

the curtain falls on this sad misery.

Last look around me ...

nothing new ... all old ... all rotten.

I undress my body and prepare to swim,

It is the penultimate luxury that I give myself ...

a warm tub welcomes me and shelters me in its waters.

Songs for a sad ending

flowers for this body that is left behind.

I quickly review my life

and as much as I search among the memories

there is not one that anchors me to it.

I see old letters in the chest,

vintage photos of hypocritical smiles

that one by one they sink next to me in the farewell.

A letter from him, a letter from her ...

What do I know! ... so many faces come to mind

that I get confused and I don't know who wrote them.

So many names, so many lies

so many eternal loves and friendships,

so many good wishes, prosperity for a new year.

But none are here

no one imagines this fatal outcome,

everyone in his world ...

away from mine ...

My cat left so as not to starve,

my life is leaving so as not to starve,

hunger for company, hunger for love, for affection.

Everything I ever dreamed of ever,

and when I say never really is never

has come true.

Why then stay on this side?

I do not know what about the other but it is better to find out.

Nothing could be worse ...

I couldn't be worse ...

I feel no pain

I am anesthetized with anxiety.

I don't feel the slide of this metal petal.

The tickle of the colorful stream that escapes through my veins

warns me that the end has begun.

I see how he flees from me every millimeter of life.

I surrender to the current closing my eyes ...

Now I just have to wait.

I promptly give rise to this eternal dream.

I'm going to sleep ... I'm going to rest ...

THERE IS NO RETURN FOR THIS FATAL JOURNEY.

In the middle of my frustrated fears

In the middle of my frustrated fears

I know this isn't the way I’d like my diary to start but that’s it, I feel awful, my soul is sick and I can’t think straight. I feel like going to vomit again. 

I really screwed it up today, Camilla (previous school acquaintance) called today as she needed to sell some tickets for a party, I was so confused I couldn’t tell her I didn’t want to go so she told me she'd come here to give me the ticket 6$ each. the thing is I feel like a looser, got no style, got acne, have no friends, my room is a mess n' don’t even like my hair.

I couldn’t deal showing up as a looser, so I told the building doorman to tell Camilla that no one was home. of course I thought it was going to be very rude of me so called her back to tell her I wouldn’t go to the party so she wouldn’t bother coming over my house, the thing was that she insisted in coming, so she came over and the watchman told her there was nobody as requested. 

So she called by cellphone here and my sister Alnitak picked up the phone a furious Camilla shouted mad and told her she was a little bitch. I imagined from time to time how it would be when I'd meet my classmates from Tilatá again but I always saw me in a rather better position that O am now. I suffered a lot at Tilatá and in part was because of Camilla, I hate myself and what I’ve become, I hate my lack of courage… my shyness.

I now wish that this day has never begun I want to wake up tomorrow and be Monday morning again so I can do it all over again. Right.

(84 days late)

Devastation, horror, madness.

The key was found. The aim of the attack was plain. By an implacable repetition of moves it was leading once more to that same passion which would destroy the dream of life. Devastation, horror, madness.

- Nobakov's The Luzhin Defense