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baring a soul : december 1999 mourning: 12.6.99 i feel like i am standing in the middle of a crowded room, screaming until my throat is raw, and someone has just been absently turning the volume down. in the last two weeks, i have experienced events the likes of which most mortals only witness flickering across the dull glowing screen of soap operas or documented wittily in trendy memoirs. and i made my choices. and i dealt with the consequences. i doled out the Joy ration, i doled out the Destruction ration. i made my rounds, i begged, i pleaded, i headed the Peace Negotiations. and i know i made the decisions i had to. but i now sit at the end of the scene, looking wearily at the next, and i am shaking with an influx of emotion that i cannot express accurately. i understand his feelings of fear and apprehension. i understand his feelings of anger and the betrayal of trust. but right now, i cannot even mediate for them. because all i can think is that in all of this, in trying to contain the mess i made, in trying to make everyone okay... i have not had a single fucking moment to mourn for the precious things i have lost. to cry for the pain i have felt. to rejoice in the gifts i have been given. i haven't had thirty fucking seconds to see how i am doing. i want to sob from the depths of my soul for a love that i wanted more than anything, but in the end i had to let go. i want to wail for the pain i caused, wail harder for the pain handed to me, completely break for the pain i know is yet to come. i want the chance to take the part of me i have chosen not to nurture, kiss her on the forehead and put her and her not-yet-created memories into my box of treasures...to tell her that i am sorry, but i made the best choice for us i could. i am allowed to mourn for what i have lost. i deserve that. then i want to sit immersed in the daydreams of hope and future. i want to open the doors and coax out the girl who gave up those dreams because they hurt too much. i want her to come play in the sunshine and laugh in the fields of daisies. i want the sunlight to not hurt her eyes. i want her to know that she can finally *stop* her mourning...that she is free. and instead i sit in the dark. and i cannot cry. i cannot mourn. i am bound. belen's don't break. they don't fucking have time. |