There is a slow movement of change about me. These things always come subtley for me, nothing ever comes as quickly as i woud like. slow movements mean slow heartaches and deep, perplexing moments in which i can no longer remmeber who or where i am. there came a time when things made sense, when i knew exactly everything i wanted and was so sure in the declarations of my conscience that i never gave a second thought to things like faith, love and hope; all those things that seem hesitant to be readily accepted. but thats all gone isnt it?
i thought i was over it, i thought that things would be better. indeed i am in a better place, right now, but im goin home, which is a constant reminder of the things i no longer have in my life. what is that "they" say, that which doesnt kill you can only make you stronger? something like that is true, but right now my rational behavior has seemed to have lost in an irrational movement, and i don t really feel like giving up my emotions for truth. i used to feel so safe in that small town, in that small school. the world couldnt touch me, yet the voices couldnt hear me, the souls couldnt confine me. i wanted to leave, head in the sky heart on the ground and a lifetime of memories to build a new life somewhere else.
YES, i wanted to leave that place, forskae all that i had ever know, but on my own terms. i wasnt ready to let go. i wasnt equiped with the strength to tear to pieces the picture perfect life i had once had. no matter what i do everything will always revolve around that day, that moment when everything i ever thought i knew was contaminated by broken forts, and loss dreams of a secure future. there are friends i will never see again and i wonder time to time where they are and if they are okay. family members left, gave up on a town no longer worth living, dying, and crying for. it hurts to see them gone. for eight months despair was my friend, it was all i knew, loss was the cut that left my heart empty. i was not home. nothing else mattered but that idea of home.
two years have passed and no longer do i look back and feel my heart bleeding, yet i find i can no longer surely remember who i was then, what i was. that is what hurts. not that it happened, but that its harder to remember my home, firends and family i once knew so intimately well. its not so much the place, my family is back there now. its who i was that i miss. the real pain, the slow realization that has caused such consternation is that i will never be that person again. my fine arts teacher from the newly created high schoo in my parish, man i love her,once told me that the only thing certain in life is change. well, mrs. c you are right. right now the only movement worth words, worth any of my time is the firm and unwavering belief that change is all i have to hope for. i have matured, and indeed the storm was the worse and the best thing that ever happened to me. i look at crystal and kno that if it werent for it, she sould have remained shamefully anonymous to me. my sisters relationship with me would have continued down a slow sprial of hurtful, calculated and spiteful words. i love her now, and not just because she is my sister. she is a beautful person, inside through and through.
I am stronger because i had to rebuild my perceptions of reality. nothing can so reassure me of my abilities to adapt to disaster than the feelings i have acquired since that big bad hurricane. it doesnt define me. i defne me.
i am in a good place right now, finally. now, if only i can stop wanting to cry at the thought of my grandpa, if only i can stop dreaming he is haunting me, then i can become a pretty stable person, maybe i can get some sleep at night. until then, i will just have to keep writing.