Thursday, August 16, 2012

The Girl Without a Head

As I was sitting and watching the news last night, a story came on about a 19-year-old girl from Bethany, OK.  She was murdered by her pimps who had forced her into a prostitution.  She was beheaded, cut into two pieces, and had her limbs dismembered.  Her torturous killing was taped and the pimps forced the other sex slaves to watch it, so they would know to never step out of line.

Anger overcame me, that and a wave of sickness.  I had to go to the bathroom...I locked myself in there just so I could breathe.  Hatred became me.  Such a strong, fierce hatred.  I could see myself crushing these mens' balls, then cutting them off and feeding their own crushed testicles to them.  After that I would cut off all their fingers and toes, and then I would cut out their wretched hearts with a dull, rusty blade, that is if they had any.  I'm still angry.  My own situation was bad enough.  When I saw the man who raped me a year or two ago at BWW's, it was everything I could do not to pull out my pocket knife and lash into him.  I had to call my parents...I remember, I was screaming.  You can't even verbalize the anger...there's no way to say how it feels to hate someone so much that you would take life in prison just to see them die, and not just die, but a die terrible death.  A quick death would be too good for them.

I remembered the feeling yesterday.  It was strong as the times when my assailant would come and hug me at school, because he thought the drugs he put in my drink had wiped my memory of that night. Yeah, right asshole.  I woke up right in the middle of it.  He told me that I had gotten drunk and he was taking care of me.  Only I hadn't drank any alcohol.  Idiot.  And even if I had, I wouldn't have blacked out 30 minutes later from drinking, thanks.

That poor girl.  All those poor girls.  No one deserves that...except rapists and murders.  I know Jesus loves them, but I don't.  God forgive me, but that's something that I will try to learn, and it will take all my life to forgive men like these.  I can't imagine how her family feels.  How would you feel if you knew your daughter died, not only before her time, but in gruesome torture?   My blood boils at the thought.

Tuesday, August 14, 2012

I'm Still Hung Up

I haven't written in a week.  Probably because I've been busy.  And once again, I'm damming up my emotions.  I'm going to tip-toe around them, because how else can I live?  Some days it's better to live in denial after trying to soak up everything for so long.

When the dust settles, I see that my life is changing so quickly.  Change is a monster that I dread so.  I need stability.  I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow to see if medicine will give that stability.  I hate how overly medicated we've become as a society, and here I am considering leveling out my emotions.  Though these emotions run me at times, and I know I shouldn't let them, they also make me so much more creative and grateful for the moments of happiness.  I'm like the desert when a drizzling rain comes.  I swallow that happiness and gulp it down.  I experience it so much fuller.  I'm certain that on my happiest days, I'm happier and more content than anyone else on this earth.  I can't accurately portray that, though.  I'm convinced that my life is a cycling wheel that spins and spins.  It's dizzying and intoxicating.  When it all stops, when all the spinning is over, what will I do then? 

Monday, August 6, 2012

Fighting the Dog Days

I'm tired today.  Well, I'm tired every day, actually.  I started some new medication that's supposed to even out my newly diagnosed bipolar, but I don't think I'm bipolar.  Besides, the guy diagnosed me after only 30 minutes.  How could he know that after only 30 minutes?

I went to bed at 11 p.m. last night, woke up at 9 a.m.  I'm still dragging.  Ugh.  I hate this cloudy feeling.  I'm sooooo tired.

The heat here is thick.  It makes me not sleep very well.  I went and saw my grandparents this past weekend.  My grandfather has chest pains.  My grandmother's memory is slipping.  It's so strange watching them grow older, frailer.  Time keeps running on, and as I sat in their living room with them, I was trying so hard to hold on.  You might as well try grasping the air or holding the just flows right on through your fingers with little regard to anyone.  Time isn't biased, and it doesn't have an agenda.

Time is the only absolute thing in this world.  It's the only thing that doesn't change.   The seconds, the minutes, the hours, they all rush along in a perfectly straight line.  They move, never jolting out of place, flowing linearly outward toward the great beyond.  Only memories remain in our finite minds.  I keep grasping for the invisible.  I'm not ready for this part yet, can we please wait?  Time, please wait for me, just a few minutes.  Let me catch my breath.  Quit taking people from me.  I see your claws in them, and yes, it's only a matter of ironic.  We never know when our day will come.  For some people, the end is more expected, but I don't think that makes death any easier.  And it isn't just a matter of death, it's a matter of losing innocence, losing health, losing friends to miles and spaces in between.  That's what time does; it takes away.  It doesn't give anything back, it just keeps on taking.

It's like an equation.  People all have their sums of days, more like their sums of life.  Certain sums are larger than others.  For some reason, I always feel like mine will be short.  No, I'm not talking about suicide.  I'm talking about my health, physically and mentally.  I feel like my days will be cut short,  but it's not a frightening thing.  All these pluses and minuses--there just seems to be more deductions than I think there should be.  When will I arrive at zero when there's nothing left?

Friday, August 3, 2012

Cycling Trivialities

"Who cares in a hundred years from now?"

What in this life is worth dying for?  I don't know if people in American society would die for much of anything.  The world we live in is shellacked with bright colors, covering the lifeless grey.  We fake happiness to ourselves and friends, we buy new cars every two or three years.  We jet-set to far away lands, which--strangely enough--shrink smaller every day with new technological cultivation on the horizon.  TVs, iPads, and Xboxes entertain our shallow, apathetic minds.  I wonder, do we ever venture past the boundaries of the modern every day hum-drum, the busy bustling that occupies our minds?  Do we sit still long enough to allow things to shift and unsettle, revealing the need for more?

What is worth standing up for?  What is worth the sacrifice?  Do we even know what sacrifice is?

It's too comfortable in America right now, but I feel the world moving.  Things will change...they are changing right now.  The earth is setting us up for a time worthy of a place in an epic poem.  I can feel the hosts in the sky collectively holding their breath.  Eyes are watching, and yet we don't see them.  Do you feel the tingling?

What's our next move?  There's a battle, there's a war.  Troops mobilize.  Somewhere on an invisible plane that finite eyes can't see, thousands rally together to begin what has been written before time.  Feet are marching, the sound is echoing, but earthly ears can't hear it, even if they strain.  It is only felt with a sixth sense, a God-given indescribable feeling.  A warning, a pulsing vibration that begins at the core of the earth.  A groaning.

Whispers in heaven bounce back in forth between other-worldly creatures.  The very seraphim covering the face of God long to look on the spectacle.  "What will they do?"  The whispers quietly undulate.

Time ticks on, though dragging.  Gravity still holds us captive.  The earth orbits the sun, and why wouldn't it?  It hasn't been ordered to stop yet.   But soon it will.  Everything will stand still, dangling in place like a mobile in a classroom that has lost its momentum to twirl.  The planets will halt without the necessary force that caused them to travel in the first place.  All other galaxies will flicker, then be extinguished after a slight hesitation.

The spotlight brightens and focuses on us and our terrestrial ball.  The glare is so bright, it can never be fathomed.  The sound of royal trumpets, and the skies turn colors unseen--brilliant joyous hues.  Something is coming, as the sky is rent in pieces, like shreds of paper.  He's coming.

But not's so close that all of nature is quaking and trembling in anticipation.

And yet, here we live and breathe in our ignorant humanity.  We trample the poor, we slaughter the sick and homeless.  We rape the young, beat and neglect the old.  We watch the hungry starve, but we don't notice them.  They are right before our blind eyes, the same eyes that soak in the images on a screen, and the garbled messages reach our brains faintly, but they are easily forgotten.  Death, disease and spilled blood, we are all exposed to these. Do we move? No.  It's all so trivial.  A hundred years from now, a movie or song will not matter.  A TV show that was once popular, people won't remember it or even care.  They'll remember a struggle though, the fight for what was right.  They'll  read about it.  But right now, we are missing something Great, something worth dying for.

"So, what's it going to be?  When it all comes down to cycling trivialities?"