You know, it scares me sometimes to go back and read old journal entries. It scares me that so much has stayed the same. So many of the same feelings crowd my mind on a daily basis. I guess you could say that I'm better at hiding it now, but they're still there. That darkness still shrouds almost every thought, every feeling. The wounds still fester and bleed, just a little bit further beneath the surface than they used to. I still have my moments where I let the mask slip and let people see in, see the truth, but I'm far more protective of that dark side than I ever used to be. I don't want people judging it, trying to exorcise it from my soul. As I have said before, it is who I am. My strength. My shield. The truest, most loyal friend I have. Darkness. Pain. Sorrow. Fear. As I've said before, I have no fear of Death. I am not as anxious for him to come and claim me as I once was, but I do not fear him. There are still moments...seconds, minutes, hours, sometimes even days...where I would welcome him, even beg him to come and embrace me. But I have learned to accept that I still have a life here, and that I have to live it before I can finally be free.
I'm tired of defending my emotions to people who can never understand what I'm feeling. I'm tired of being told to "get over it" by people who have only the slightest clue the pain that I've experienced. None of what I went through is something that you just "get over" and I'm sorry if my pain is an inconvenience to you. I do my best to put it aside 90% of the time and those times that it does hit me like a ton of bricks well... I can't help it that I still cry for her, for myself, for everything that was lost and stolen and will never be. I can't help it that I get angry, that I scream and lash out at demons you can't see. I can't help it that you can't understand, that you can't begin to know what I'm thinking and feeling. And no, there is nothing you can do to make it better. There is nothing anyone can do to make it better, at all. Nothing can bring her back, nothing can take away what they did to me, nothing can dull the pain that was inflicted upon me...nothing. Most of you don't even know the half of it, and what you do know, you refuse to believe, and calling me a liar does less than nothing to ease the torment. So I lie and say that I'm fine, with a smile on my face, and I let you think I've lost my mind completely when the facade cracks ever so slightly and I have a bad day/week/month and lash out for what is, to you, no logical or even illogical reason.
As an afterthought, unloading your best kept secrets to random people in your life is incredibly stressful and stress relieving at the same time.
More to come. This has already gone very far off the originally intended course