January 07, 2012

January Disease

Been twitter stalking people I used to know. I know its a bit unwise, of course it doesn't feel great to see the tweets about their interests, career and friend filled lives, the photos of the 4 kids and their horses, when I live in a street when kids smash car windows. There was police everywhere today, blocking roads and asking people where they were going, its a very different life. I still get upset thinking about how their lives dont seem to have been affected by the shit we went through, they didnt have as much of it as me. It's a reality check, they're not going to be showing up anytime soon. They have to much pleasantness in their lives.

Fuck them.

I'm hardly the type to be a footballers wife or DJ's girlfriend. It was fantasies, fantasies that got me through. I look at them and their industries and feel greatly relieved as well as hard done by. It's not like they dont know what goes on beneath the surface, they were fully educated in it and still choose to be a part of it all. Whereas I puked up and ran away.

I understand in some ways I still find it too easy to seperate the loving feeling in the memory of someones arms from the knowledge of who they are, and what they have done and what the currently tolerate. Maybe its just like the way that they sperate the past of their collegues, bosses etc from their current relationships with them. What happened happened, no point in letting it spoil a current career opertunity or social occasion.

But the images, the sounds, the smells of dead and and dieing babies make it very easy for me to walk away from anyone and anything. Even if I'm walking away from a fight, by being on my own, without friends, without a job, without interests I know (or believe at least)that I'm not involved in systems that hid and hide the pure curroption and exploitation at exists at the core of so much.

It different know though, I'm older, safer. Things have changed, I have a lot of good stuff going on. And as my new doc said I'm still young enough to do anything I want to do. Why then is it so hard to move on. I dont want to abandom the dead. I know working for a new life does not change my love for those unregistered children, doesnt change the fact that I sacrificed myself to try and help them but I still dont want to let it go. But there is nothing I can do, I cant force myself to remember more, even what I do remember I find it impossible to write or say. It's a world beyond the English language and I need support way beyond what I am capable of finding when my instincts are still telling me to withdraw.

There is some comfort in knowing that people I once loved are sleeping so soundly tonight, their time so joyfully filled and their health so taken care of even if I cant forgive them for it at the moment. Still when I lie down tonight I will be thinking of them, their arms, the promises, the love the seemed to work so hard to convince me of. But how can me perceptions ever be right after what I've seen?

Maybe I will do that post grad course after all so I can work on my own, looking after old stuff.

Sounds exciting..