Go ahead and play dead, I know that you can hear this, Why can't you turn and face me
this day again. just once i'd like to go back to it being a day i didn't have to try and survive without losing more of myself to the room in my head where no one's allowed to go. but that would be worse, to have it back for one day, only to lose it again. i couldn't sleep today, and i don't think i'll sleep tonite. i'm afraid the dreams will come back, and just no, not on this day. maybe it wouldn't have been so bad this year, but it all got dredged up again when our father showed up. i didn't realize how much it would cost me to pretend to be my other sister for that short time, or i'd of never done it.
Michael, bless him, has given me the space i need, knowing what i need without me ever having to say. i've been locked up in his study since last night, not wanting to have to pretend i'm ok for anyone and waiting for sunset so i can go out. no one's tried to disturb me yet, other than Michael when he first got up and came in to silently plant a kiss on my forehead before leaving me to my grief again. Col might remember what day it is, since it's also my mother's birthday, that would explain why he hasn't come looking for me either, thank the gods. i'm grateful for that, i don't want to hurt him.
it will be dark soon, and i can feel a dangerous mean streak coming on. it's the anger, i want to rail against the unfairness of it all, hurt something, anything, and i don't want that something to be Michael, Col or Isabella. i still have the rosary, i keep it in a box in the back of my closet, and if Michael knows i have a crucifix in the house, he's never mentioned it. i have to put on gloves to touch it now, and i've been sitting here for hours with it in my hand, the power of it slowly burning through the leather of my glove, waiting to feel the sting of pain when it finally does. i'm hoping i can feel it, i'd give anything to feel something other than this all-consuming rage. it should happen by susnset, and if not i'll stop torturing my glove and just take it off. then i think i'll go out with my favorite battle axe and see what else i can feel.
Michael, bless him, has given me the space i need, knowing what i need without me ever having to say. i've been locked up in his study since last night, not wanting to have to pretend i'm ok for anyone and waiting for sunset so i can go out. no one's tried to disturb me yet, other than Michael when he first got up and came in to silently plant a kiss on my forehead before leaving me to my grief again. Col might remember what day it is, since it's also my mother's birthday, that would explain why he hasn't come looking for me either, thank the gods. i'm grateful for that, i don't want to hurt him.
it will be dark soon, and i can feel a dangerous mean streak coming on. it's the anger, i want to rail against the unfairness of it all, hurt something, anything, and i don't want that something to be Michael, Col or Isabella. i still have the rosary, i keep it in a box in the back of my closet, and if Michael knows i have a crucifix in the house, he's never mentioned it. i have to put on gloves to touch it now, and i've been sitting here for hours with it in my hand, the power of it slowly burning through the leather of my glove, waiting to feel the sting of pain when it finally does. i'm hoping i can feel it, i'd give anything to feel something other than this all-consuming rage. it should happen by susnset, and if not i'll stop torturing my glove and just take it off. then i think i'll go out with my favorite battle axe and see what else i can feel.