shifting mists
2002-09-09 05:15:57 (UTC)

sometimes scars are heavy...

In six days it will be six years.

~deep breath~

Even now, six years later, I still get jittery as September 13th
approaches. Melancholia and 'sensitivity'. Jumpy... anxious. Pensive
and withdrawn. A sort of self imposed emotional exile from everything
and everyone. Yet actually, it's more that all the emotions I feel
are an upheaval of things I'd rather keep buried. Feelings that even
I can't see clearly because of my refusal to deal with them. And the
withdrawn exile has more to do with trying to give a facade of a
smooth, unruffled surface so much like a deep glassy surfaced lake.
Deceptively smooth on the surface while underneath the water churns
as violent currents twist and turn.

He's drunk again, it's time to fight
She must have done something wrong tonight
The living room becomes a boxing ring
It's time to run when you see him
Clenching his hands
She's just a woman
Never Again

When will that day, this time of year, stop making me feel that way?
I know sometimes our actions leave scars, and that sometimes scars
simply do not fade. But does this have to be one of them? I conquered
the Counting Crows album; well, for the most part anyway. Battled and
achieved control over my hate... eventually coming to a form of
forgiveness. I've done so much, healed so much. Yet this landmark
date always slips in to wrench at something inside of me. Even three
years ago when I'd not realized until the 12th what the next day
actually was, my emotions had already been effected and in an odd
state of upheaval for a week. Realizing the date simply made me
understand why.

I hear her scream, from down the hall
Amazing she can even talk at all
She cries to me, Go back to bed
I'm terrified that she'll wind up
Dead in his hands, She's just a woman
Never Again

I wasn't able to set aside the money this year to go pick out and
purchase myself something special. To celebrate the day. I still
will, it's just the first year that I haven't been able to do it
on "the day". It's disappointing in a way. ~shrugging sigh~ Very. But
at the same time I'm powerless to do anything about that particular

Just tell the nurse, you slipped and fell
It starts to sting as it starts to swell
She looks at you, she wants the truth
It's right out there in the waiting room
With those hands
Lookin just as sweet as he can
Never Again

If I knew people, enjoyed people, I'd throw a party on that day each
year. A great big celebration full of happy laughter and good times.
Perhaps a barbeque (the last fling of the summer sort of thing) with
lots of music and fun. I feel it's how it should be celebrated. A
celebration of freedom and good times. A way to fill that day with an
abundance of wonderful memories. It was the day of my escape after
all and should be celebrated as such. It should be a day for
celebrating all those wonderful things I have been blessed with that
would never have been if I'd not made it out. And, in a way it is.
It's just not celebrated in the way it feels like it should be
celebrated. Because I don't know people, I don't particularly enjoy
people, and... I'm just not that type of person.

Lyrics courtesy of the song "Never Again" by Nickelback.