Remember.

The radio sang and I hummed. The light turned green and I turned the wheel.  Suddenly the street elongated as if it was something out of a trippy cartoon. The cars seemed to slow down, or perhaps they were blazing by at the speed of light. I glanced out my rear view window, everything behind me was untouched by what lay in front of me.  The school bus continued to drop off children, the mailman continued to deliver letters.  I peeled my eyes away from the rear view and focused out the windshield.  As if it were out of a movie, all at once the sirens blared, the lights blazed, and the horror filled my mind.  Leaving not even a second to process what was happening I instinctively pulled the car over to the side and allowed the ambulance to roar down the road. All this within a few fleeting breaths, but it changed everything.  I don't know who the ambulance carried, or why they were rushing to the hospital, but it doesn't matter.  It happened. And for all I know, the repercussions of that moment are still being felt, perhaps they will continue to be felt for the rest of this mortal lifetime.  It is a sobering thought.. one moment changes everything.

It bothers me when people do not understand that everything matters. Events matter. People matter. Words matter.  Good and bad, every action bears a consequence. The phrase "time and space is the great healer" really pisses me off.  Probably because I know it's true, but I don't want to wait.  I want the pain to subside now. I wish humans could grasp that memories are real, and intimate, and extremely powerful.  [I'm writing this down because I believe memories carry some sort of emotional baggage and that weight upon the individual is both legitimate and worth exploring.]  The mind is able to remember minor details, able to hide pain from the individual. I do not think this is coincidental. But sometimes pain is triggered by a familiar thought, idea, scent, or scene. Again, I do not think this is coincidental.  There must be a purpose, I just don't know what it is, but I am going to find out.

One moment is all it takes.

and happy freaking september.

I'd Like to Die Moments After You.

Lately when I'm driving I have thoughts that float into my head, but disappear as soon as the light turns green.  So instead of causing a wreck, I think I'll keep track of them here.

why does heartache exist? I guess a better question is: why did evil have to enter the world? why did God see fit to create a perfect world, only to have it messed up? why such brokenness? was He bored? was He simply entertaining angels? just why? ..not that I would like the answer to that question if I ever got one.  I learned that the hard way on December 4th, 2009.  when is God coming back? maybe He really did just create the world and then let it loose. I hate to think He forgot about us, but sometimes I wonder.  what does He think when I'm driving alone and start to cry? is He moved the way I would be if I saw a young woman crying at the wheel?  perhaps it's selfish and naive for me to think God would consider my pain something important. but isn't it only human to want to be heard, and held? to be held. that's an interesting concept.  I want it so badly, in fact I long for it, but I'm so closed. I would love to blame my lack of communication skills on the people who took advantage of me, who hurt me, but I know in my heart of hearts that it isn't their choice to be so guarded, it's mine. at any rate, screw the perverts who cause[d] children pain, and fear, and emptiness. it makes me angry to think about how much hurt is in the world. I want to change it. I have no idea where I'm going, what I should be, who I should become. I'm discovering that life is very unfulfilling when you have no purpose.

Art of War.

some wounds don't heal.

it's been twelve years.

it's been nine years.

it's been six years.

it's been one year.

it's been nine months.

August Twenty-Seven.

If I was not opposed to it, I would be using superfluous amounts of curse words in this blog entry.  However, I know the good Lord would not appreciate such language, so I will try to refrain.

One year ago I sat alone in my dorm room at America's Keswick, one hour and fifteen minutes away from my home.  One year ago today I called my mom's cell phone to hear her voice and wish her a happy birthday.  She was so happy.  She made it to August 27th.  "I knew you would, Mommy." I said with a twinge of sarcasm.  Of course she was going to have another birthday.  It was only Lymphoma.

The phone call didn't last long, she was out at dinner with the rest of the family.  I should have been there.  I should have explained my situation to my boss.  I should have just left.  But instead I sat in my room waiting for my nightly responsibilities to begin.  Looking back, I don't remember what I did that night.  Quite frankly, I don't give a crap.  It doesn't matter, it didn't matter.  All I remember is falling asleep that night was hard.  Not because I was sad not to be home, but because I was so self-absorbed, so caught up in the mess I had made.

On August 26th we made bars of soap as an activity.  I made a pink one with lavender flowers in it.  I knew my mom would have loved it.  I was going to wrap it up and give it to her as soon as I got home.  But I lost it.  I never found it.  I never gave her a birthday present.

And now it's August 27th.  I'm sitting alone in my bedroom,  one hour and fifteen minutes away from America's Keswick.  I went out to dinner tonight, but Mommy wasn't there.  We had a cake with custard and fresh strawberries, topped with lots and lots of pink and white flowers.  We all just sat there, staring at it.  Nobody wanted to touch it.  Probably because it's just not right to have cake without the special birthday person not there.

I miss hearing my mom walk in the door and setting her keys on the table.  I miss her complaining about the dishes not getting done.  I miss her walking up the stairs to bring me a shirt that somehow got mixed up in her laundry.  I miss her sitting on the end of my bed, commenting on my massive amounts of dirty clothes, and then in the same breath, complementing my picture of Andrew.  I miss walking in on her kneeled beside her bed praying.  I miss her giving me a hug and saying "You're a good Doobie".

Mommy, I love you.  I can't wait to see.  If I could, I would have a countdown of days til I get to give you a hug (just like the ones you and I would make for me seeing Andrew).  I miss you so much, but I love you even more than that.

Because Pink is Her Favorite; Because it Reminds Me of Her.

I didn't get the "dorm room experience" last year, I won't this year, and by the time Junior and Senior year roll around, I won't want it. So I kind of created my own "experience" by completely redecorating my bedroom. It still has pink walls, and is still Paris themed. But I now have a new bed, new sheets, new chair, new lights, and new end tables. It feels like new everything, quite honestly.

I really like my new room, but I think my favorite part is the pink daisy that's sitting on the pink end table.

Sweet Serenades.

sing me to sleep and I will be the content.
hold my hand through the night and I will be safe.

what would happen if you sing me to sleep while holding my hand?
I hope I find out.

The Ocean is Salty, Just Like Tears.

God, I know it's selfish, but I want to get married, grow old, and die in my husband's arms.

Forget love, I just want you to make sense to me tonight.
Forget words, I just want you to make sense to me tonight.
-Anchor & Braille