I don't love you like I did yesterday.
Sometimes I feel like I'm haunted by the old me and she climbs inside my skin at night and makes me turn back into her. In the dark, it's easy to think back to when everything was so wretched. It's easy to float from one bad memory to the next; like you're drifting down a river not realizing that it ends at Niagara Falls. The truly sad thing about it is that I no longer have good memories from between age 20 and 25. Oh, I'm sure good things did happen to me, but every memory has been tarnished like a piece of silver left out without anyone to wipe away the grime. I'll focus on the one hurtful moment out of ten until it's magnified to become the only memory I have left. Or at least the only one I can focus on. In the dark, it seems like pain is the only thing that matters.
I've realized that I have a lot of built up anger from those years. Too many words left unsaid, I guess. If I could tear Albany down, brick by brick, I would. I still don't think that would quell the rage in my heart. I want retribution. I want someone to pay. It's as though a loved one attempted suicide under the watchful eyes of her mentors instead of it being my own attempt. I guess a part of that is guilt. Every time I have a bad day, I can see the panic in my parents' eyes. Not that again. Anything but that.
Last night, I dreamt I was a monster. My body was made of ash and my heart full of fire. I was carrying a cane shaped like a cross down my block while the crowds shouted at me: "By the cross we forsake it. With the mark we shall be denied." They turned their wrists to the sky and I saw that they had Xs on their wrists. When I looked at my own, they were slashed and bleeding black.
That's when my alarm went off and I couldn't shake the dream the rest of the day. I went to work in a stupor, spent the day alternating between making mistakes and crying in the bathroom, and was quite sure that everyone on the train was whispering about me. By the time I got home, I was ready to do anything to alleviate the pain. That's when Vinni jumped up into my arms. I swear, if there is such a thing as a guardian angel, that dog is it.
I've realized that I have a lot of built up anger from those years. Too many words left unsaid, I guess. If I could tear Albany down, brick by brick, I would. I still don't think that would quell the rage in my heart. I want retribution. I want someone to pay. It's as though a loved one attempted suicide under the watchful eyes of her mentors instead of it being my own attempt. I guess a part of that is guilt. Every time I have a bad day, I can see the panic in my parents' eyes. Not that again. Anything but that.
Last night, I dreamt I was a monster. My body was made of ash and my heart full of fire. I was carrying a cane shaped like a cross down my block while the crowds shouted at me: "By the cross we forsake it. With the mark we shall be denied." They turned their wrists to the sky and I saw that they had Xs on their wrists. When I looked at my own, they were slashed and bleeding black.
That's when my alarm went off and I couldn't shake the dream the rest of the day. I went to work in a stupor, spent the day alternating between making mistakes and crying in the bathroom, and was quite sure that everyone on the train was whispering about me. By the time I got home, I was ready to do anything to alleviate the pain. That's when Vinni jumped up into my arms. I swear, if there is such a thing as a guardian angel, that dog is it.