Tuesday, July 27, 2010

this ain't about nothing you know/explosion

Sometimes, I sincerely forget what he did to me.

Rather, I never forget what he did to me. My body's internal regulator will not allow it. It's the reason why I have problems being friends with guys without thinking about them in that way, and it's the reason why I have problems being friends with some girls without thinking about them in that way. (Well, that may be strictly curiosity from before the what occurred.) It's the reason why sometimes I experience weird figurative twinges that resemble the feeling of my organs switching places inside my body. Up and down and round and round.

I can never, and will never, forget.

But sometimes, I forget the realistic destruction it caused for me. Like right now, I'm writing this very real shit that you have no idea about, and it's not emotional like I thought it would be. Like many other things I write, I had the urge to write it, and so I removed myself into my semi-quiet room and here we are now, together, here.

I am detached.

Probably because I'm not that girl anymore, not that girl who things happened to. That girl who used to let life happen to her. That girl who used to be afraid to let people know.

Somewhere in time, that girl got stuck and this girl who is this woman emerged, mouth wide open. Sometimes, it's hard to shut it. Usually, I don't want to. I am honest at all times. There is no such thing as TMI with me. I talk about my vagina as freely as my sex, as freely as I would a peanut butter sandwich at a lunch table.

Because I'm not that girl anymore.

I will never forget what happened, but sometimes, I forget that it happened. Sometimes, I am normal, have always been normal, always on a linear, uninterrupted path. But those short times only remind me that no one is truly normal. Because I am all but normal.

I embrace this abnormality, though I speak of it still in whispers and hushes; in muted colors halfway masked in shadow. It is not ready to be as plain as a summer white wall. Not yet. I don't know when it will fully be ready. But it's approaching. It's been a long, a long time coming...

Sometimes, I sincerely forget what he did to me.

And those are the moments that let me know that my healing is processing. Not fast, not slow, but steady. And steady will win this marathon.

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