every time i see you living a seemingly normal-happy life, i die a bit. It makes me so sick that you get that freedom - and that you stepped on my life to get it. The old pain is latent now - its the new pain that flares up unexpected. sneaky. and without remorse.
I find myself thinking so hard, about what i DID and DIDN'T do. And it used to be about salvation, ya know. WHY couldn't i save my friendships, relationships, friends. But now, its about revenge or maybe even just bitterness. And I've come to realize bitterness is not the worst, and even better its none of anyones business what i feel. I can talk for days about how i feel, but no one and i mean NO ONE has the right to comment on it. my blog, my rules. my mouth, my rules. my terrible horrible abusive imprinted and painful college experience. my fucking rules.
Rachael has only heard pieces of this. pieces. when she hears me rant about it, eyes wide and glistening, waiting for the first tear to drop- she'll understand my obsession. When something pierces this deep its hard to ignore, get over, or move past. And besides anyone who wants me to do that (without realizing the complexity) is probably not my friend and not a respectful person. You cant erase trauma - it comes from the greek word for wound. its a wound. and sadly, there's no meds for it. its just festering and getting infected. I wish i could heal it. but then i don't. If it was healed how would i explain myself? How would i explain the me that was birthed from that HORRIBLE experience? I wouldn't know how.
I used to worry that my words would start a war, but i really don't care anymore. No one who was involved with these feelings care for me, so why should i care what my words might mean to them. its over, its been over. I have to express myself somehow - and i can't wait for people to see me like i want them too, cause they see me how they want. even if its wrong and possibly offensive. No. i deserve to express myself. i do, i earned it. I didn't get the chance before my life went up in flames and has since been 'under construction'.
i want my life back. but it's not there anymore. and i have done EVERYTHING i could to get it back. i graveled, i degraded myself, went into the lions den and let them tare me apart, died, lived, apologized, and tried will everything i had. But its still gone and ive had to move forward without it.
i have a right to my feelings, don't i? or as a woman, a black woman, a queer...should i shut the fuck up, bow down, and let this eat me alive(again!)?
I NEVER talk about my coming out experience. it stays hidden and buried. it breaks my heart to remember it. infact, i'm not sure i do. All i can remember now is feeling something i wish i didn't. I have wished thousands of times i never embraced who i was. i wish i had ignored it.
