Life is a mess of interconnected webs and each tragedy bleeds into another. I once thought that October and January were separate events, but now I see how they bled into one another and how the ripples joined and swelled into the tsunami that has crashed over my life. I've cut and been cut off until the last one standing is me - and I'm not even standing, I'm just sitting here, in love with my own grief and the way it looks on paper.
I struggle to believe in a God that heals and changes when a lack of changes in those closest to that deity caused a wound in me that couldn't be healed. Or maybe it's wouldn't. I've never been good at gray, so I stay as deeply immeshed in the black as I can; I don't know the difference between mourning a loss and drowning in it. Maybe I think I deserve to drown in it.
When my parents carved out half our family and threw them to the curb, I learned that friends are only worth keeping when they don't rock the boat and that hard times tear us apart. So when my own hard times came, I vowed we'd stick together, not realizing that their hardship had also been mine and that the rough seas had cracked my hull. So it was with desperation that I tried to force two serrated beings together and got everyone hurt in the process. Sometimes I think my life is just a compilation of all the ways that I've failed - as a daughter - as a sister - as a friend.
Friend, friend...I've put too much weight on that word in the past and now I realize that the idea of 'kindred spirits' is a fairy tale. There is no one out there who will ever understand or even want to understand the dustiest corners of our mixed up souls. And even these words are missiles loaded and waiting for anyone who thinks they want to know me; trust me - you don't.
I used to want to save people, to help them. Well, I've saved two lives now, and here's what I've learned; it doesn't mean shit if they didn't want them in the first place, and I wonder if we can every truly help anyone, or if we're just springboards for those who care to help themselves.
Do I want to help myself? I don't know. I don't even know if I'm broken.
But, really, aren't we all? just a little?
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