Friday, January 27, 2006

Last night I was in my Essay Writing class and everything was good. I even like the textbook for that class, I'm really looking forward to writing and learning more there. It was all good, until a girl in my group mentioned the "girl that got killed last semester." I didn't know what to say or do, they were talking about my April little girl... it was so hard to listen to that, to react to that, to even speak after that happened. I started saying something but couldn't continue. I couldn't. I tried to keep going and nothing came out.... Like I had forgotten how to talk or how to breathe. I never know what to say. It's hard to think she's gone. I always think of her, I can't help it. Everywhere I go there's something, someone, or even the place that reminds me. Last night after class I wasn't ok. I drove by the apartment. And I remember last time we went out and how we talked almost all night. I was gonna stay at her place that night but I decided to go home cause "it was only 4 am." I hugged her that night and told her that I was so glad we got to talk so much. That night she had told me all about D.C. and her internship and her new friends, and all the jokes about Hope watermelons... We were supposed to go to a bday party at 7 but I was late... she was late as usual, so we didn't go. We stayed talking until midnight when we went to another party. She showed me her apartment and I met her roommates. I saw the pictures from D.C. and help her finish her hair (she had gotten it done at the beauty school for only $4... we were so excited that she had spent so little).

What are you supposed to do when your friend is remembered by so many for the headline on the newspaper? How do you stop wanting to call her? How do you write this so others won't tell you to go for therapy (cause that's what you do here in the U.S. when life happens)? How do you do when there are no more talks or jokes? no more study nights, no more seeing each other when running late for class, no more crazy ideas, no more picture times, no more lunch with the girls on Fridays, no more help with Spanish, no more discussion about books or the news, no more text messages, no more teaching me how to step or remembering the time I fell on my face, no more plans to visit her family again. God, please help her family. I can't even imagine.

I had other things to write about... like how I'm going to do my first mural and how I'd feel like Diego Rivera and stuff like that. I'll get to that some other time, now I have to clean up this mascara cause it's hurting my eyes...

I want to see a shooting star tonight.