a year?!
I don't know why I thought to, but I decided to log in and check on livejournal today, and oddly enough it has been a year. Perhaps there is something about this moment during the semester that I feel the need to go back in time and see who I used to be. Perhaps there is something about the week of Thanksgiving that brings back where I have been at various and previous Thanksgivings...
Clearly there is something about this time, but does it really matter?
Here I am. There are times I feel like nothing has changed and then there are times that I see how so much has changed. There are times when I think wasn't that just last week when it was really years ago and there are times when I think wasn't that just last week when it was hours ago. It's a funny thing - time.
Supposedly it heals all wounds. I hope it does, but clearly that hasn't happened either. I still am covered in bandaids that are holding back gushing blood, open wounds, sore and painful. Sometimes I think they are healed and I think I can remove the bandaid, but when I do, the gushing pain returns. Still not healed. Still don't know when or even if I ever will be.
Perhaps it is time for another tattoo. I haven't gotten one in 2013, and that seems completely out of place. Six is not the number I want to stop on... it isn't a good number... I have a list of what I still want, of who I still need to capture so that when I leave this world in my bare nudity, I will take them with me.
The bandaids and the tattoos may seem unrelated but they are. As I told someone the other day, the tattoos are my pretty scars, the scars I choose. And even more phenomenal? Those "pretty scars" let me know that maybe, just maybe, my other scars can heal one day.
But I'm not ripping bandaids off any time soon still...
Clearly there is something about this time, but does it really matter?
Here I am. There are times I feel like nothing has changed and then there are times that I see how so much has changed. There are times when I think wasn't that just last week when it was really years ago and there are times when I think wasn't that just last week when it was hours ago. It's a funny thing - time.
Supposedly it heals all wounds. I hope it does, but clearly that hasn't happened either. I still am covered in bandaids that are holding back gushing blood, open wounds, sore and painful. Sometimes I think they are healed and I think I can remove the bandaid, but when I do, the gushing pain returns. Still not healed. Still don't know when or even if I ever will be.
Perhaps it is time for another tattoo. I haven't gotten one in 2013, and that seems completely out of place. Six is not the number I want to stop on... it isn't a good number... I have a list of what I still want, of who I still need to capture so that when I leave this world in my bare nudity, I will take them with me.
The bandaids and the tattoos may seem unrelated but they are. As I told someone the other day, the tattoos are my pretty scars, the scars I choose. And even more phenomenal? Those "pretty scars" let me know that maybe, just maybe, my other scars can heal one day.
But I'm not ripping bandaids off any time soon still...