Mon, 24 Oct 2005 20:26:47 GMT

What kind of person leaves behind the only thing that ever mattered to her? What kind of person runs away from the one thing that kept her alive, the one thing that allowed her to live not survive? What kind of person ignores salvation? What kind of person turns their back selfishly from responsibility? What kind of person causes deliberate pain to the one thing that loves her for who she is? What kind of person? What Kind of Person? WHAT KIND OF PERSON? What kind of person?

Yesterday morning, I could literally feel my heart beat. Pounding straight through my chest and into my mouth. Yesterday morning I couldn’t take the pain anymore. Yesterday morning, I wanted to die. Yesterday morning was too hard. Yesterday morning I could see the boxes in my head. There was a huge one. A heavy one. One with so many unspeakable things clawing to come out. Begging, pleading, sniveling to be let out. I couldn’t breathe with the effort of shoving them back in.

Why does most of it have to hurt? Why does it have to claw and maim and bleed? Why is it left broken and reaching with outstretched, skeletal hand, lost and searching for redemption. Sometimes I’ll look out and then see nothing. Nothing nothing nothing. I like the sound of typing typing, busy littler fingers just typing away. No other purpose except to type.

Pain free. Pain less. No more pain. Stop pain dead. So many promises, so many advertisements from medicine bottles and boxes for a life with no more clawing, burning, inevitable misery. Were that it were true and there would be no more medicine to buy anywhere, people would come in droves to block out the agony. To escape their right, their birthright and promise really.

When is it that a child turns around and finds their parents are no longer the giants they’ve always been in their eyes?

I have this theory that we all eventually grow down rather than grow up. If you actually start to look at the meaning of grow up and then look at all these stellar examples of such a dubiously envious position, you’ll understand. You’ll see what you already know. What you’ve always known. That’s why we all came kicking and screaming into the world. That’ll probably be one of the few, if not last, times that we ever truly get to throw an all out temper tantrum. See, we already knew. We already knew what life had in store for us. Pain. Not ones that we could get through and get over. Nah. That insidious pain. The one that creeps, that steals, then slowly, quietly conquers. The unholy, silent scream.

There are people, adult together people who will fight all their lives, argue, scream, yell, and rip each other to shreds in the emotional abyss they’d fallen into as they had pretended all their 20-25 years of their lives together. Each one filled with so much aching, clawing pain they cease to listen what continues to drip venomously from their open mouths. Each one’s pain so loud, they can see nor hear anyone else’s. Each bruising, tearing, so caught up in their own darkness they can’t--well, see past the end of their noses.

The children know what you’re not saying. They see past the façade. Uncannily, they understand the silent screams, too.

When we’re younger we expressed ourselves…a lot. Whether little boys pulled the hair of little
girls to piss them off, whether other little girls give each other flowers to show affection, or boys hug girls to let them know they like them, whether they’re telling each other outright why someone to show friendship, they’re communicating, conveying their feelings. Not allowing others to guess at their feelings. We all used to spell out who we are. Now, when we grow “up” we learn to shut up. We learn to hide our thoughts, our hopes, our confusion. Our universal pain.

Mindless meanderings