Senseless

"What was it like to see
The face of your own stability
Suddenly look away...
Leaving you with the dead and hopeless?"

"My shadow's...
Shedding skin and
I've been picking
Scabs again.
I'm down
Digging through
My old muscles
Looking for a clue.
I've been crawling on my belly
Clearing out what could've been.
I've been wallowing in my own confused
And insecure delusions
For a piece to cross me over
Or a word to guide me in.
I wanna feel the changes coming down.
I wanna know what I've been hiding in..."

I don't know what to do. I don't know how to feel. I want to be angry, but there's no one to be angry at. I want to curl up (fetal position) and drift into a state of utter numbness. I want to cry, to sob, to rail against the wrongs that have brought this sickness on...but I can't. I have to be strong for the family, Bob says. I have to be strong and help out when he's not there, Bob says. I have to don the guise of strength when Mom's crying in her room because she's afraid...and I have to pretend that I'm not afraid.

Oh, but I am.

I'm terrified.

This is the third time I've had to grow up quick amidst cruel circumstances. I had to grow up at nine, I had to grow up at fourteen, and now I have to do it again. Do you know what it's like to have to take care of your brothers and sisters when you're nine years old and afraid that your mother's going to die? Do you know how much it screws with your psyche when, at fourteen (fourteen), adulthood is pushed upon you because there's no one else around to help you shoulder the burden? I was cooking dinner and cleaning at nine. I was helping with homework and making sure everyone got to school on time at fourteen.

At nineteen, I'm giving up my summer so that our family won't fall apart.

But I want to fall apart. I want someone to keep nailing me together...because I'm going to fall apart.

I don't believe in a God, but my family does. I suppose I'm glad they do. Our pastor (warm, loving, Scottish darling that is) and his amazing wife are spinning another web of hope for my mother and this family to fall back on. I'm so grateful that those two can provide some glimmer of faith, because I can't. I couldn't.

I don't want one person to tell me that there is a God. How could a RATIONAL being inflict this upon my kind, fragile, adorable mother? How could a benevolent, celestial father tear apart this family? Why the hell is this happening again? Why does she have to suffer through cancer again when a child molestor who lives just a few blocks away remains unscathed and gloating? HOWHOWHOWHOW?!

I'll tell you how. Because there is no God. The religion that they instilled in when I was six is just superstition. And now that I've figured it out, I'm brittle and terrified. But wiser.

I'm so ashamed of my own weakness right now. I need someonesomethingsomedrug. I need to be held. I need to get away from myself.

"At night I hear it creeping;
At night I feel it move.
I’ll never sleep here anymore...
I wish you never told me.
I wish I never knew.
I wake up screaming...
It’s all because of you."