A joyful exploration
of things I feared for so long,
blooming into a healing glow
which fuels me today
and makes me smile.
It erases so much of the pain I felt
I can't help but laugh, and wonder,
Why I ever let things,
get so bad.
Saturday, August 30, 2014
Thursday, August 14, 2014
December 9th, 2012.
I'm driving deaf dumb and with tunnel vision. It's late. School has just finished, and tomorrow is Monday. I don't have any classes to worry about anymore.
My heart is cold, and I have my, "I'm stomp through the world in straight lines, and god damn the consequences" theme on. I have my heavy "skull stompers" on; a simple pair of black work boots I have, that I wear to get more height, and to make each blow count. The beats are heavy, they hit like a punch, the synths are harsh, and buzzing. But for all that I enjoy this music, my mind is racing. I'm not listening to the music. It is just there, as I speed through the night to get to a bad place. I got a call earlier that night. She was scared. She was stranded. She had work in the morning. She didn't know what to do. She panicked when he was coming back down the stairs.
It had been at least an hour since I heard anything. I set my good friend to try to contact her, while I rushed boldly (foolishly) to the scene.
I got there, and their apartment lights were on. I stare up at them. I turn off my car, and get out. I armed myself well; My camera backpack, a flashlight, a few knives, my zippo lighter. I think I might have even grabbed a crowbar, or wished I had. My van used to have a crowbar... I long for my van. It would be such a short jump from the 3rd floor to my van. Or from my van, to the third floor. The lights are still on, and I can hear the vague sound of occationally raised voices. I stare, not sure what to do. Caught in a moment of indecision. If I was found out, there would be consequences. Maybe not for me, but she would certainly pay the price of my presence.
I curse myself softly for my indecision, and shiver. Not sure if it was the cold, or my adrenaline glands on full. I'm trying to appear composed. Admittedly, I stand out. Or blend in. I can't tell; I'm just another hooded figure walking alone in this shady apartment complex. I decide to walk around to the front. I walk up the stairs calmly, remembering the times I walked up them before. It was raining last time I was on these steps. The lighting cast threatening shadows. It still did. I imagined being a private eye. I might have smiled, or internalized it. Walking down the landing, I pass the other apartments. Some dark, some showing vague signs of life. I stop outside door 19. I hear the voices talking. More one voice talking, while the other (I imagined) coward bloody and bruised inside. I curse myself again for not having a crowbar.
"I could force the door," I think, "it wouldn't be the first time this door has been opened with out a key."
That summer. Newly weds and a roommate who was an alcoholic. Who never seemed to have rent ready, but spent hundreds on booze every time he went to the bar. 18 packs gone in a night. I remember holding her back from him, who antagonized her, but coward away from her, as she squared off to, (foolishly) punch his accusing face off. Right in front of the cops too.
"Classy."
I think about calling the cops. But I've already stood outside too long. I continue up the landing, as quietly as I can. Shivery again, my adrenaline on fire. My heart filled with ice. I feel like I'll never be warm again. I reflect on the possibilities of calling the police.
I have no real proof. Them showing up might just be a waste of time. She'd only defend him anyway, because she wants to believe she married someone she loved. Maybe it was love, maybe it was manipulation. At that time, I was certain it was manipulation.
I walked around the other side of the building. I'm looking into the apartment complex to see if I can get a good view on their window. The light is still on, but the blinds are drawn. I curse softly, and wish fervently for infrared gear, like you see in the spy and cop movies. I'm shivering almost uncontrollably now. I climb back in my car and get what warmth I can from the heater, without turning my car on. It's already gone cold. It must be really cold out. I can't really feel my hands at this point. I wait in my car. I decide I'm not going to leave until something changes. Not until the lights go out. I wait. I don't have to wait long. I sent a text after the lights go off.
"I'm here"
"You shouldn't be here, he'll be so angry if he finds out."
"If you need to leave, I can drive you."
"you need to go"
The messages are long gone, on my flip phone. I don't remember the words, but that is the gist of them. My phone is also dying. I've been checking it obsessively. My friend has been texting me, letting me know he hasn't gotten any responses. Her mother texts me, and I give her a call, and ask if she knows what is going on; she doesn't know much more than I do, she just knows something is wrong, because she isn't getting texts back.
I do one more walk around. Up the stairs, and calmly walking down the landing, trying not to uncontrollably shiver. Still not sure if it was adrenaline or the cold. I stop; no voices, just the sounds of a modern warfare game, and see that the TV is on.
"They both have work in the morning. This is not the time..." I get paranoid and move on. Shortly thereafter, I see a cop pull into the apartment parking lot. I decide to get back into my car and leave. I do so, and drive slowly away, hoping my numb hands and legs don't effect my steering in such a way that draws the eye of the police. I turn and head home, my mind quiet. Then I get another text; from her mother. She tells me I need to go back. I do a u-turn and speed back. I resume my old parking spot, and text; "your mom says you need to leave. I'm here if you need to"
The gist of the message is, "i'm fine, I have work tomorrow, don't worry." My adrenaline is pumping again. I call her mother and tell her what I've been told. She's worried. She's seen this before. This isn't the first time she should have left.
And it won't be the last time.
My Adrenaline ebbs, and I'm exhausted. So ready for a fight, so ready to assist in flight, and in the end, it was for nothing. Or something like that. I find myself vaguely grateful I didn't act foolishly. Don't need to go to jail for any stupid reasons. Don't need to be the hero so badly that I destroy another person. My phone is dead now. I find myself in need of a charger. Not that I was getting texts or calls...
That night, I put my phone charger in my car. That night, I was acutely aware of the change that had just taken place in me. The duality I faced down. The lose-lose situation I was in. The situation far beyond my saving. Far beyond the saving of any marriage counselor, or any other person who either would listen to.
I realize now, I'm not a savior. Nor should I act like one. I'm not the hero of the hour; never was, no matter what praises be sung to me. I'm only human, and that night, I faced that cold hard reality in the face. I couldn't be the hero people wanted. I couldn't be the hero I wanted to be.
Didn't stop me from trying though...
God damn them both.
My heart is cold, and I have my, "I'm stomp through the world in straight lines, and god damn the consequences" theme on. I have my heavy "skull stompers" on; a simple pair of black work boots I have, that I wear to get more height, and to make each blow count. The beats are heavy, they hit like a punch, the synths are harsh, and buzzing. But for all that I enjoy this music, my mind is racing. I'm not listening to the music. It is just there, as I speed through the night to get to a bad place. I got a call earlier that night. She was scared. She was stranded. She had work in the morning. She didn't know what to do. She panicked when he was coming back down the stairs.
It had been at least an hour since I heard anything. I set my good friend to try to contact her, while I rushed boldly (foolishly) to the scene.
I got there, and their apartment lights were on. I stare up at them. I turn off my car, and get out. I armed myself well; My camera backpack, a flashlight, a few knives, my zippo lighter. I think I might have even grabbed a crowbar, or wished I had. My van used to have a crowbar... I long for my van. It would be such a short jump from the 3rd floor to my van. Or from my van, to the third floor. The lights are still on, and I can hear the vague sound of occationally raised voices. I stare, not sure what to do. Caught in a moment of indecision. If I was found out, there would be consequences. Maybe not for me, but she would certainly pay the price of my presence.
I curse myself softly for my indecision, and shiver. Not sure if it was the cold, or my adrenaline glands on full. I'm trying to appear composed. Admittedly, I stand out. Or blend in. I can't tell; I'm just another hooded figure walking alone in this shady apartment complex. I decide to walk around to the front. I walk up the stairs calmly, remembering the times I walked up them before. It was raining last time I was on these steps. The lighting cast threatening shadows. It still did. I imagined being a private eye. I might have smiled, or internalized it. Walking down the landing, I pass the other apartments. Some dark, some showing vague signs of life. I stop outside door 19. I hear the voices talking. More one voice talking, while the other (I imagined) coward bloody and bruised inside. I curse myself again for not having a crowbar.
"I could force the door," I think, "it wouldn't be the first time this door has been opened with out a key."
That summer. Newly weds and a roommate who was an alcoholic. Who never seemed to have rent ready, but spent hundreds on booze every time he went to the bar. 18 packs gone in a night. I remember holding her back from him, who antagonized her, but coward away from her, as she squared off to, (foolishly) punch his accusing face off. Right in front of the cops too.
"Classy."
I think about calling the cops. But I've already stood outside too long. I continue up the landing, as quietly as I can. Shivery again, my adrenaline on fire. My heart filled with ice. I feel like I'll never be warm again. I reflect on the possibilities of calling the police.
I have no real proof. Them showing up might just be a waste of time. She'd only defend him anyway, because she wants to believe she married someone she loved. Maybe it was love, maybe it was manipulation. At that time, I was certain it was manipulation.
I walked around the other side of the building. I'm looking into the apartment complex to see if I can get a good view on their window. The light is still on, but the blinds are drawn. I curse softly, and wish fervently for infrared gear, like you see in the spy and cop movies. I'm shivering almost uncontrollably now. I climb back in my car and get what warmth I can from the heater, without turning my car on. It's already gone cold. It must be really cold out. I can't really feel my hands at this point. I wait in my car. I decide I'm not going to leave until something changes. Not until the lights go out. I wait. I don't have to wait long. I sent a text after the lights go off.
"I'm here"
"You shouldn't be here, he'll be so angry if he finds out."
"If you need to leave, I can drive you."
"you need to go"
The messages are long gone, on my flip phone. I don't remember the words, but that is the gist of them. My phone is also dying. I've been checking it obsessively. My friend has been texting me, letting me know he hasn't gotten any responses. Her mother texts me, and I give her a call, and ask if she knows what is going on; she doesn't know much more than I do, she just knows something is wrong, because she isn't getting texts back.
I do one more walk around. Up the stairs, and calmly walking down the landing, trying not to uncontrollably shiver. Still not sure if it was adrenaline or the cold. I stop; no voices, just the sounds of a modern warfare game, and see that the TV is on.
"They both have work in the morning. This is not the time..." I get paranoid and move on. Shortly thereafter, I see a cop pull into the apartment parking lot. I decide to get back into my car and leave. I do so, and drive slowly away, hoping my numb hands and legs don't effect my steering in such a way that draws the eye of the police. I turn and head home, my mind quiet. Then I get another text; from her mother. She tells me I need to go back. I do a u-turn and speed back. I resume my old parking spot, and text; "your mom says you need to leave. I'm here if you need to"
The gist of the message is, "i'm fine, I have work tomorrow, don't worry." My adrenaline is pumping again. I call her mother and tell her what I've been told. She's worried. She's seen this before. This isn't the first time she should have left.
And it won't be the last time.
My Adrenaline ebbs, and I'm exhausted. So ready for a fight, so ready to assist in flight, and in the end, it was for nothing. Or something like that. I find myself vaguely grateful I didn't act foolishly. Don't need to go to jail for any stupid reasons. Don't need to be the hero so badly that I destroy another person. My phone is dead now. I find myself in need of a charger. Not that I was getting texts or calls...
That night, I put my phone charger in my car. That night, I was acutely aware of the change that had just taken place in me. The duality I faced down. The lose-lose situation I was in. The situation far beyond my saving. Far beyond the saving of any marriage counselor, or any other person who either would listen to.
I realize now, I'm not a savior. Nor should I act like one. I'm not the hero of the hour; never was, no matter what praises be sung to me. I'm only human, and that night, I faced that cold hard reality in the face. I couldn't be the hero people wanted. I couldn't be the hero I wanted to be.
Didn't stop me from trying though...
God damn them both.
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