I'm a liar, because this blog was all about funny, all about me saying the things to my internets haters face that she didn't have the balls to say to mine. Well I don't have those balls. Until now this has been all very light funny stuff, tonight we're gonna have to get serious because I know I won't be able to sleep until this is said, so here are the things I wanted to say when I saw you Meagan, the things I wanted to say to your boyfriend, to your child to every thing you've ever said about me.
I saw you today. There are things I notice about you that are beyond words, beyond my skill with them at least. The things like how your elbows crease in that way, the texture of your skin and your bad posture. Your affinity for ugly t shirts in terrible colors and baseball caps. These things told me who you were with your back turned, it felt like a sixth sense walking through an automatic door and having my belly tighten, my broken toe start to hurt. I don't think you saw me and I'm glad for that, because you don't deserve the satisfaction of my fear, of my pain. I hate that you have anything of me at all after these years, and yet I walked with my back taunt shoving ahead a shopping cart as if I were the criminal, as if it was me who had done wrong. I say so often I have nothing to hide, so why am I so ashamed of you?
You are thinner than I am but I've always known that. Honestly I think you need to brush your hair more and that is petty of me. I would like to imagine we had the same feeling when our eyes met. I would like to imagine that you were as uncomfortable as I was. That an invisible bit of twine wrapped tight around your intestines and pulled at them, willing you to go anywhere but here. I wonder if you do the same things I do. If you make plans for what you will do when you see me in public. I had grand plans you know, The second I saw him I was going to scream to anyone who could hear that a pedophile was in the building, to hold your children dear. I want him to feel every bit of shame that lays on my doorstep every day. When the time arrived and you were staring me in the eyes next to your lover I could not say a word. My mother had to speak for me and even that was something small. I like to imagine you have the same fantasies in reverse, that we are alike in our fear of each other. I would like to like you, did you know we had mutual friends once? We had the same friends who thought lowly of him. It comforts me to know that I am not alone in that at least. I wonder if you know what its like to give a victims statement. If you know how it feels to spend hours on end in a police station having to disclose every detail of your sex life to a woman you met that day. To describe someones penis and their bedroom and relay every sweet nothing ever whispered in your ear by the person you believed you would be with forever. I wonder if you've ever been to a SANE nurse. If you've ever had to describe every sex act, how many times and all the ways you've been touched. If anyone has ever rooted around in the most personal parts of you to take pictures of something private, secret. I wonder if you've ever walked into your school for the first time, knowing that everyone else knows what you have done. I wonder if you feel the same shame they say I should feel. Did you know it didn't occur to me to be ashamed? I loved, I loved fiercely and for a long time I tried to protect the guilty. I saw no shame in finally succumbing to the truth of the matters, I was a victim of a crime. That is not how they saw me, I walked in a school of people who heard your story, heard your tales of some harlot throwing her crimes at an innocent man. I wonder if you know the truth at all.
These are the bloodletting of a depressive spiral. They don't make sense and in a way I don't want them to.
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