A Deeper Vileness
SIRRAH!!
08/17/2008.
The four year anniversary of something immensely painful.
It went more smoothly than I could have imagined, considering the fact that when I woke up, I was positive I would have a horrible day.
The month of August in it's entirety is difficult to survive. I'm on the fourth year. I do wonder how long things will continue to be this difficult.
I miss you, mother. Let me tell you about the day I had on your anniversary.
(It wasn't that great, but I don't care, I really wish you were here. I really do.)
It happened to be Cosplay Day at Kinokuniya which I found to be funny. I knew I wouldn't necessarily enjoy it, but I was desperate for something to take my mind of things, especially on that particular day. So I stuck on my wig and headed to Bryant Park.. It was actually really crowded, the two girls from the American Cosplay team to go to the World Cosplay Summit were there, which I thought was cool. Also, there was free cake. I definitely ate some with my bare hands. o_o
... Lol.
So it was fun, due to the free cake. I'm still mad I didn't get chosen for the maid cafe at NYAF this year, though. ~.~
But anyways, afterwards, we all hung out for a while.
I took Amber home on the train, or rather, we traveled together, and something odd happened.
Or not so decidedly odd or unusual, because it itself wasn't, it was more of my personal reaction to it that was.
Maybe I really am starting to change.
This whole process began four years ago, and perhaps significant changes to my actual character have taken place. I found myself incredibly frustrated on the train ride home, and was about two seconds away from kicking any random mofo in the balls, maybe twice. Maybe even Amber. Yet something remarkable happened. Upon reaching the apex of my own personal frustration, I was about two seconds away from taking it out on Amber, when she started to break down in tears (before I did anything bad, mind you ~.~). She started explaining to me that the book she was currently reading had unearthed some very painful memories that were still lurking about her unconscious; suppressed memories from the past, regarding the loss of a loved one. It immediately alleviated my frustration, very simply due to the fact that my immediate want and need to comfort her exceeded the intensity of what I had just previously been feeling. A large part of that, I believe, has to do with my own personal experiences with love, loss and losing a loved one. Most convenient timing, most convenient indeed. (Fists at sky.)
She was in tears for the remainder of the ride, maybe about 40 minutes or so. People love to gawk, I kind of like it too. But anyways, I mean, we got off at my stop, Sheepshead Bay, and we actually just sat at the end of the platform for a long while, maybe about two hours, just talking. For the first time, she had opened up about her past to me, and at the moment I decided that it meant something to me. She told me all about her past, the whole entire story (which was definitely a VERY odd story, and one I think only a person like me could even follow) and the whole story was actually incredibly interesting, and was even relevant to my most recent studies. (More on that later, mom. You're going to think I'm crazy just like dad, well, wait, I am.)
The sky was really clear during this time, and I could see the stars perfectly. The breeze also happened to be perfect, and I noticed this. I also noticed the moon, and its (not to be too poetic, but I'm serious) matronly light, peeking through the trees. The night itself, I noted to myself at the time, was actually remarkably beautiful. I did cry a bit. Thankfully, she didn't notice. But I did, for my own reasons.
I think the reason why this is so important to me, and the reason why I'm writing about it now, the morning after, is..
When you passed away four years ago, to the date, my ego split into two. One girl, named Christy, was left behind, in mourning, in despair: lost, afraid, suicidal, angry, so passionately angry - teeming with hatred, and a deep, unrelenting vileness in her heart. That girl stayed there and she didn't move. The other half of my ego was forced to move, simply by standards of modern survival. Her name is Sana. She was forced to grow, forget, forgive, learn to love, accept, cope, and grow, regardless of that deeper vileness. She learned to accept, understand, or at least for a while, live with, the pure hatred in her heart. These two girls do not really know eachother that well. They speak to one another once in a while, yet are two shards existing from the same broken mirror. You can certainly claim that they stem from the same entity, yet at the same time, they are obviously separate, individual pieces. For the past four years, I've been engaged in an brutal, relentless battle for.. solace. Peace for two disagreeable beings that happen to exist in the same body. One being that has stayed motionless for years, frozen in that very moment that they removed the mask from your face, folded your arms, and you left me for good: frozen in the moment that her father shook you and shook you and shook you, begged and begged and pleaded, but you did not fucking wake up. The other, who walked away from the funeral home in Leesburg, firmly dried-eyed, repeating the phrases, "I am fine, and I will always be fine. I'm stronger than this, and death doesn't scare me," and never returned to the scene of carnage, ever again, except only to contemplate, and seek strength from it. These are two very different people.
When I held another person in my arms, who was feeling the same gnawing, consuming horror that I had, been feeling every day and night for years, I understood something all over again: how my capacity for compassion, empathy and understanding had been so expanded due to my suffering. Sana has limitless love, patience, and understanding for anybody who needs it. She had grown and flourished and is a young woman who cares, loves, pities, cries tears of innocence and joy, and has successfully combated that deeper vileness. It is the need and want to help others that help bring Sana to the surface.
This has all shown me that I have made considerable progress in gathering the pieces of my broken ego.
They've, for a while, been amassed into the.. two, aforementioned, larger pieces. The two pieces of glass. But it's not, by any wild and reckless stretch of my fine imagination, anywhere near being over. The deeper vileness: the void that formerly housed half of my being, is still just that: a large void. The void threatens to overcome me at any given moment. The deeper vileness that gives rise to Christy's well-known sociopathic tendencies, belligerent anger, and that deeper vileness, so help me, threatens to consume me every time I revisit the moment that he shook you and shook you and shook you and you never fucking woke up!
However, I have made progress, and I'm pretty happy with who I am today. I am happy with what I've done, and where I am, and what I am capable of. I believe there is a good reason I've met the people I met, regardless of how insignificant I normally view social relationships, and I believe I am in New York for a reason. Yet, to be honest, I feel so far away from your spirit. However, I don't know if being closer would necessarily be any more comfortable. I'm not sure what to do. Sometimes I'm not sure who exactly I am. I don't know how to expel this deeper vileness from my soul, one that seems to deepen, and deepen more and more.. with the passage of time.
Is it inevitable that it will consume me?
If you can hear me, please help me.
-Sana K.
08/17/2008.
The four year anniversary of something immensely painful.
It went more smoothly than I could have imagined, considering the fact that when I woke up, I was positive I would have a horrible day.
The month of August in it's entirety is difficult to survive. I'm on the fourth year. I do wonder how long things will continue to be this difficult.
I miss you, mother. Let me tell you about the day I had on your anniversary.
(It wasn't that great, but I don't care, I really wish you were here. I really do.)
It happened to be Cosplay Day at Kinokuniya which I found to be funny. I knew I wouldn't necessarily enjoy it, but I was desperate for something to take my mind of things, especially on that particular day. So I stuck on my wig and headed to Bryant Park.. It was actually really crowded, the two girls from the American Cosplay team to go to the World Cosplay Summit were there, which I thought was cool. Also, there was free cake. I definitely ate some with my bare hands. o_o
... Lol.
So it was fun, due to the free cake. I'm still mad I didn't get chosen for the maid cafe at NYAF this year, though. ~.~
But anyways, afterwards, we all hung out for a while.
I took Amber home on the train, or rather, we traveled together, and something odd happened.
Or not so decidedly odd or unusual, because it itself wasn't, it was more of my personal reaction to it that was.
Maybe I really am starting to change.
This whole process began four years ago, and perhaps significant changes to my actual character have taken place. I found myself incredibly frustrated on the train ride home, and was about two seconds away from kicking any random mofo in the balls, maybe twice. Maybe even Amber. Yet something remarkable happened. Upon reaching the apex of my own personal frustration, I was about two seconds away from taking it out on Amber, when she started to break down in tears (before I did anything bad, mind you ~.~). She started explaining to me that the book she was currently reading had unearthed some very painful memories that were still lurking about her unconscious; suppressed memories from the past, regarding the loss of a loved one. It immediately alleviated my frustration, very simply due to the fact that my immediate want and need to comfort her exceeded the intensity of what I had just previously been feeling. A large part of that, I believe, has to do with my own personal experiences with love, loss and losing a loved one. Most convenient timing, most convenient indeed. (Fists at sky.)
She was in tears for the remainder of the ride, maybe about 40 minutes or so. People love to gawk, I kind of like it too. But anyways, I mean, we got off at my stop, Sheepshead Bay, and we actually just sat at the end of the platform for a long while, maybe about two hours, just talking. For the first time, she had opened up about her past to me, and at the moment I decided that it meant something to me. She told me all about her past, the whole entire story (which was definitely a VERY odd story, and one I think only a person like me could even follow) and the whole story was actually incredibly interesting, and was even relevant to my most recent studies. (More on that later, mom. You're going to think I'm crazy just like dad, well, wait, I am.)
The sky was really clear during this time, and I could see the stars perfectly. The breeze also happened to be perfect, and I noticed this. I also noticed the moon, and its (not to be too poetic, but I'm serious) matronly light, peeking through the trees. The night itself, I noted to myself at the time, was actually remarkably beautiful. I did cry a bit. Thankfully, she didn't notice. But I did, for my own reasons.
I think the reason why this is so important to me, and the reason why I'm writing about it now, the morning after, is..
When you passed away four years ago, to the date, my ego split into two. One girl, named Christy, was left behind, in mourning, in despair: lost, afraid, suicidal, angry, so passionately angry - teeming with hatred, and a deep, unrelenting vileness in her heart. That girl stayed there and she didn't move. The other half of my ego was forced to move, simply by standards of modern survival. Her name is Sana. She was forced to grow, forget, forgive, learn to love, accept, cope, and grow, regardless of that deeper vileness. She learned to accept, understand, or at least for a while, live with, the pure hatred in her heart. These two girls do not really know eachother that well. They speak to one another once in a while, yet are two shards existing from the same broken mirror. You can certainly claim that they stem from the same entity, yet at the same time, they are obviously separate, individual pieces. For the past four years, I've been engaged in an brutal, relentless battle for.. solace. Peace for two disagreeable beings that happen to exist in the same body. One being that has stayed motionless for years, frozen in that very moment that they removed the mask from your face, folded your arms, and you left me for good: frozen in the moment that her father shook you and shook you and shook you, begged and begged and pleaded, but you did not fucking wake up. The other, who walked away from the funeral home in Leesburg, firmly dried-eyed, repeating the phrases, "I am fine, and I will always be fine. I'm stronger than this, and death doesn't scare me," and never returned to the scene of carnage, ever again, except only to contemplate, and seek strength from it. These are two very different people.
When I held another person in my arms, who was feeling the same gnawing, consuming horror that I had, been feeling every day and night for years, I understood something all over again: how my capacity for compassion, empathy and understanding had been so expanded due to my suffering. Sana has limitless love, patience, and understanding for anybody who needs it. She had grown and flourished and is a young woman who cares, loves, pities, cries tears of innocence and joy, and has successfully combated that deeper vileness. It is the need and want to help others that help bring Sana to the surface.
This has all shown me that I have made considerable progress in gathering the pieces of my broken ego.
They've, for a while, been amassed into the.. two, aforementioned, larger pieces. The two pieces of glass. But it's not, by any wild and reckless stretch of my fine imagination, anywhere near being over. The deeper vileness: the void that formerly housed half of my being, is still just that: a large void. The void threatens to overcome me at any given moment. The deeper vileness that gives rise to Christy's well-known sociopathic tendencies, belligerent anger, and that deeper vileness, so help me, threatens to consume me every time I revisit the moment that he shook you and shook you and shook you and you never fucking woke up!
However, I have made progress, and I'm pretty happy with who I am today. I am happy with what I've done, and where I am, and what I am capable of. I believe there is a good reason I've met the people I met, regardless of how insignificant I normally view social relationships, and I believe I am in New York for a reason. Yet, to be honest, I feel so far away from your spirit. However, I don't know if being closer would necessarily be any more comfortable. I'm not sure what to do. Sometimes I'm not sure who exactly I am. I don't know how to expel this deeper vileness from my soul, one that seems to deepen, and deepen more and more.. with the passage of time.
Is it inevitable that it will consume me?
If you can hear me, please help me.
-Sana K.