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dewingedLook at the dates. See when my last entry was.
Yeah.
No one saw it coming, and when it happened, I didn't write here. I haven't since.
WHy? I've been asking myself this all weekend. Why did I hold it all in? Why didn't I say anything?
Because, in some ways, I still worry. I wonder that: if my entire life is happening for the sheer purpose for myself to be just some war statistic. And that scares me. For a long time, I've wondered about self-meaning: Why am I here? What am I supposed to be doing?
And if the answer to that could be I'm here as background noise, that's terrifying.
The WTC.
Earlier that morning, I was listening to the radio, and the song I was listening to was that one they play in /every/ 'Nam movie. You'd know it if you heard it. "Stop Children, what's that sound, everybody look what's going down." and I remember thinkignt o myself "That's something to marvel at: My generation never had anything like that. Nothing like Veitnam, like my Dad did."
That was around 8:10 AM, Eastern time, September 11, 2001.
And we pretty much know what happened next.
My cousin, Krystyne. She was working in the 2nd tower, called when the first plane hit, and that was the last anyone ever heard from her. From what we've understood, she was probably going down the stairs to get out when the tower collapsed. 8 months pregnant, and 33 years old. And I feel tears fall down my face as I type this. And that's why I haven't posted in Oh-God long. When it all happened, I tried as hard as I could to shut it all out. SO much pain, so much loss, so much fear, and I felt all of it. and I let it win. Because I'm weak.
We held the memorial service a few weeks later. I rememebr crying, there. The priest kept saying things like "It was her time. God's decision," and I wanted to scream that it wasn't. God had nothing to do with what happened. No way, no how.
I was angry, and I still am, and I never dealt with emotions well. I remember someone online saying "Oh, the reward for Bin Laden is up to $25 million.' And I remember saying "Fuck that, I'll kill him for nothing." And...I meant it. Nasty as that sounds, for someone who professes nto to be really violent in RL, I would.
Would it bring her back? No. I know that.
But there's still that small part of me that believes, in that child-like way, that if he goes away, everything will be back to normal again. And I curse myself for being so naive. I hate that part of myself, among other things.
And I wake up every morning, wonder what happens next.
And, like a coward, I buried it all. All my feelings, all the hurt, all the anger, because I'm not mature enough to deal with it. A child forever, that is my curse. To know that I'll never be a grown-up, no matter what my body looks like. Never moving on.
I've been afraid for so long, and now I don't feel like there's anything there.
It's 12:30. I should be sleeping, but I can't. I might write more in a notebook I carry with me, until sleep finally takes me. Until then, I don't know.
Yeah.
No one saw it coming, and when it happened, I didn't write here. I haven't since.
WHy? I've been asking myself this all weekend. Why did I hold it all in? Why didn't I say anything?
Because, in some ways, I still worry. I wonder that: if my entire life is happening for the sheer purpose for myself to be just some war statistic. And that scares me. For a long time, I've wondered about self-meaning: Why am I here? What am I supposed to be doing?
And if the answer to that could be I'm here as background noise, that's terrifying.
The WTC.
Earlier that morning, I was listening to the radio, and the song I was listening to was that one they play in /every/ 'Nam movie. You'd know it if you heard it. "Stop Children, what's that sound, everybody look what's going down." and I remember thinkignt o myself "That's something to marvel at: My generation never had anything like that. Nothing like Veitnam, like my Dad did."
That was around 8:10 AM, Eastern time, September 11, 2001.
And we pretty much know what happened next.
My cousin, Krystyne. She was working in the 2nd tower, called when the first plane hit, and that was the last anyone ever heard from her. From what we've understood, she was probably going down the stairs to get out when the tower collapsed. 8 months pregnant, and 33 years old. And I feel tears fall down my face as I type this. And that's why I haven't posted in Oh-God long. When it all happened, I tried as hard as I could to shut it all out. SO much pain, so much loss, so much fear, and I felt all of it. and I let it win. Because I'm weak.
We held the memorial service a few weeks later. I rememebr crying, there. The priest kept saying things like "It was her time. God's decision," and I wanted to scream that it wasn't. God had nothing to do with what happened. No way, no how.
I was angry, and I still am, and I never dealt with emotions well. I remember someone online saying "Oh, the reward for Bin Laden is up to $25 million.' And I remember saying "Fuck that, I'll kill him for nothing." And...I meant it. Nasty as that sounds, for someone who professes nto to be really violent in RL, I would.
Would it bring her back? No. I know that.
But there's still that small part of me that believes, in that child-like way, that if he goes away, everything will be back to normal again. And I curse myself for being so naive. I hate that part of myself, among other things.
And I wake up every morning, wonder what happens next.
And, like a coward, I buried it all. All my feelings, all the hurt, all the anger, because I'm not mature enough to deal with it. A child forever, that is my curse. To know that I'll never be a grown-up, no matter what my body looks like. Never moving on.
I've been afraid for so long, and now I don't feel like there's anything there.
It's 12:30. I should be sleeping, but I can't. I might write more in a notebook I carry with me, until sleep finally takes me. Until then, I don't know.