"We come to a place and make it a desert, and this we call peace."
Monday, April 11, 2011
Time Catches Even The Fleetest of Foot
There's something wrong with me. I don't mean like cancer or something like a disease which makes people gasp and cover their mouth. I mean in my head. No, I don't want to kill puppies or anything like that but none-the-less there is something going on up there and I don't like it one bit. It took 25 years for it to catch me, 25 years of me believing I had it all comfortably tucked away behind all that junk in my mind. It was suppose to be buried behind my first bike and the time I dropped a coke bottle and cut my fingers trying to clean it up. Its a bad thing and bad things are tenacious and thorough. It took 25 years for it to surface but here it is and I don't know what to do about it. When I close my eyes I see them and I hear them and sometimes I smell them. I feel the panic like it is happening all over again and I feel the stomach churning that comes with that set of sorrows. I see their faces and I hear their screams and it rends at my very soul. Sleeping is becoming increasingly difficult because that's when it all comes back the strongest. I will awake, sweaty, winded and looking for cover and concealment. Three, sometimes four times a night. I was so smug when we came back, the others cried and yelled but not me. I was made of ice and rolled steel. Nothing could phase me, I was the perfect Scout. Look at them, I thought, they wallow in weakness, but not me, I am impervious to all this emotional nonsense. I was so foolish, and now my chickens have returned to roost. I don't know why I write this now, maybe I need to tell someone. My wife doesn't know and I wouldn't dream of telling my friends, but maybe I need to tell someone even if its a someone I will never really meet. I'm tired and I really need more rest so as to marshal the strength to but this crap back in the ground. I am Finrod, and Finrod doesn't do this stuff. Thank You for listening.