Forward

It's no real secret that I feel things... "empath", "fragile", whatever, have been tossed to me. Thing is: I don't care. I'm not quitting being me for anyone, although I am working on huge changes in general. Among those things is losing the fear I learned, and simply being.

The biggest thing is to get out of the darkness and into the light. No sense smirking as you make up a joke regarding "Mariska zee vitch"- not many people know Russian hero epics (Marina, aka Mariska.) or the Polish queen to a Russian pretender whose name lives in quiet infamy as perjoritive nickname in the tales... it helps no one and forgiveness is all.

Sometimes, life shows me darker paths... which will terrify. I am not good with death yet, I've been warned of my own time and again, fought against it. I've met "grief counsellors" who told me that in time I'd forget the person entirely. Barely 12-year old me jerked sharply at that... I remember feeling my limbs snapping, my back tensing. They were telling me it was ok to forget half of myself. It wasn't. I walked out.

But lately, lately... I remember an incident from my early 20s. In middle school, I'd met this girl... while sweet, something seemed off... there were two people in there. I won't go into full on details. I ended up walking away, losing myself in other outlets, books, travel, illnesses. In the years leading up, she'd become an enfant terrible. After social workers, attempting to help with a parents' divorce, moving, a parent with borderline personality disorder... were consulted...and did... NOTHING. The clock sped up, one day I answered a call from her younger sister. She'd killed herself. This was shocking enough... finding out she'd recently discovered she was pregnant really caused some strange emotions. Grief, guilt and sadly, I shouted "You murdering cunt!" I went to her memorial, and saw the people who had seemed to control her for years, grieving family members on one side, and people who had weirdly automatonic reactions on the other.

I always felt bad... I had learned to detest her behaviors, how her family got hurt, how she'd killed not only herself but an innocent unborn infant. How I hurt to see that she'd had promise and it had been snuffed out, with her own fingers, just like that, and to this day, there are more answers than questions. That I'd become furious, not at her death, although that hurt, but at her act that didn't just hurt her. It's been years, and I've learned, yes there's love there. Yes, I forgive. Forgave a long time ago. But sometimes, when it's dark, I remember her and remember her tragedies, her lack of answers, her behaviors, her actions, and I know not to become that. I never hated. May she and Baby have the peace she was looking for. May her family, all of it, be blessed.

I pray that whatever demons you faced, you are finally enjoying the sweet peace you sought for. I still love you, I forgave a long time ago. ♥

May I learn not to let myself get eaten, not to become cold and hard. May I remember life is tough, but beautiful, and we are not in this life for peace, but it is still worth living and fighting for.