Tuesday, February 15, 2011

It's definitely been awhile since I posted last, and I know it's on my Bucket List to post 200 times on this thing, and I'm in my last semester of college, so I guess I should start posting again. Well, plenty of new stuff since I posted last: I've been promoted at my new (as of November) job, I'm writing my super exciting, super cool thesis that will allow me to graduate this spring (if my professor ever sends me notes back, and I excommunicated my father, which I guess is another thing I can cross off my Bucket List. I sent the letter last month (January 11, 2011). I'm calling that day my freedom day. But it doesn't feel like freedom. Here's something I wrote:

"Hi, my name is X.
I'm a victim of y.
My freedom date is MM/DD/YYYY."
Together: "Hi X."
"Hi, my name is M.
I'm a victim of n.
My freedom date was MM/DD/YYYY."
Together: "Hi M."
My turn.
"Hi, my name is..."
Shit, what's my name?
Has his crime
Destroyed that much of me?
Where's my ID?
It says JA,
but that isn't me.
"My name is J."
What am I a victim of though?
What was the crime?
Dammit, why is this so
Difficult to Remember,
Difficult to Accept.
Maybe I don't want to remember.
Maybe I don't want to accept.
"I'm a victim of domestic abuse and
Child Molestation,"
if that's what you want to call it.
I don't know if I would call it that.
Molestation is such a dirty word.
I don't want to be associated with that.
It's what pervs do,
It's what bad people do.
It's the stuff offenders tell their
Not to tell about.
And he never told me not to tell,
So that must mean it wasn't,
or was it?
God, this is embarrassing.
Who am I talking to?
God must not exist.
He wouldn't have let this happen to me.
"My freedom date was 1/11/2011."
Only I don't feel free.
I feel guilt.
I feel sadness.
I thought freedom was supposed to be a
Good feeling,
So why do I feel lost,
like I'm in a large field with no landmarks on the horizon
or anywhere around me?
Lost with no name.
It's like Waiting for Godot
This is pointless.

I wonder if the slogan here is
'One day at a time'
like in AA.
Only here, we're not addicts,
we're victims of "addicts".
Mine's not an addict. He only did it to me.
He just has better excuses than
Others like him.
And better ways of hiding it,
And a better threshold for the
Getting Caught
Remaining Not GUILTY.
What he did is so much less than
Any other defendant.
But so much more
Because it's gone
and will remain so.
Maybe my letter was a bad thing,
Because it informed him he was
and needs to step back.

I look out the window and see a
Brick Wall.
Unwavering, despite my efforts.
This isn't freedom.