If my enemies enjoy reading my pain, this is your lucky day. Of course, there is a caveat. For every ounce of pain you caused me (and seem to enjoy reading about so much), you should know it will be yours one day, too. Tenfold. Not by my hand...never works that way. Being Karma's bitch has but few benefits, the biggest and best of which is knowing that the evil I have been sent to expose is always answered.
Always...and, forever, or, something like that. Maybe it's to the edges of infinity? Beyond our ever-expanding Universe??? You get the idea. Words spoken in love have a way of growing teeth in hate. And, I do hate. Hate because I love.
How can I love that which should be hated? I don't really know except to say that some hearts--like mine--are more angel than human. Perhaps it's the opposite...hard to say. I don't remember any other life. Just dreams. Hints. Guesses. Sometimes, I'll sit against a large rock in a new place, and a memory will flash before my eyes. My hand feeling in the dark along wet, rough stone. My mind telling me to be patient. To not show fear. Play the long-game. You see, I've been a prisoner before. It's why I won't go into old castles. Just once. And, that was enough.
The caves saved me somehow. Limestone, slick with water. Feeling my way to freedom. Never fearing death. A sense I carry with me today. Even when it was (or, is) imminent.
I see a great future. One where I get recompense for this most recent set of insults and injuries. It's a few years ahead yet, but, there does come a day when I am no longer feeling pain like this. It doesn't happen by accident; the changes occur by my own hand. The idea that we are all masters of our own fates sounds so great, until you realize you actually are in charge. 'Daunting' is the word that comes to my mind first.
Driving in Ireland, there was this moment where the GPS unexpectedly turned me onto a one-lane road--a true one-lane road--not the two-lane roads that seem like one-lane roads to Americans. It was in the Burren. And, I remember rounding corners where I could not see what could very possibly be another car barreling right toward me. As I wound my way through the ultra-narrow hidden roadways of Ireland, I actually heard myself say out loud, "Please don't let me die here...."
Irony, again. Because, only days before that moment, I considered how wonderful it would be to die there. In Ireland. A place where I had so much joy after not having it for most of my life. That might sound mad to people who haven't walked in my shoes. You may think my shoes more comfortable than they are between travel and occasionally hanging with celebs--but that's because you don't understand what it feels like to wear a heavy, prosthetic brace. And, have no balance. To feel like you have a perpetual 50-pound weight in your left hand. As if the world were constantly tilted on its' side. Imagine that for a moment. What do you think it's like to take even one step under those conditions?
Not fun. Although, it does leave room for good-looking men to offer me a hand. The white-knights of this world--how I love you. And, how you LOVE me.
Silver-linings! I've invested so heavily in that silver, you'd think I'd be rich by now....
I've been approaching this pain-thing all wrong. When it first happened, and I had yet to feel the full a/effect of irreparable consequences from another's actions, it was easy to see that using the pain to create wealth and live an amazing life was the best road to take. But, it's hard to start driving your car down any road--let alone those deadly little Irish roads--unless you have wiped the tears from your eyes. Pain is paralyzing though. How do you reach for a tissue when you can barely move??? That's been my quandary.
Living with gratitude helps. I'm super-grateful for my life, my friends, my family--not necessarily in that order. I once had a psychic-friend yell at me because of my sadness, "You won the genetic lottery...you have nothing to cry about." More irony. My Intelligent-genes is what opened the door to sadness. When you can see the next 50 moves ahead and realize you lose at the end, no matter what little triumphs you manifest in between, it's hard to feel joy about tomorrow. Or the next day, or, the next.
When I think about my happiest future, it always involves a little girl--one I'm not sure I'll have time to meet. That pisses me off. Because, it is inside me to make the people responsible for that loss also pay for it. Except, we live in a "civilized" world. One where, there are laws. Laws that allow innocent people to be caged and the guilty to roam free, sit with their grand-children, have sex, eat fried chicken and Junior Mints, dye their hair diarrhea-brown...that old chestnut.
All I need do today is look at a wolf and he shrinks from me. The female doesn't. She's also an alpha. She stands her ground, but playfully. Not to insult me. To be such a human, yet not a man, is a curse. I can't do anything in this body. Can't defend my own honor, or the honor of my daughter. But I really want to. So bad, it burns. Leos are like that. Fire of fire. That's why I sit and cry. It's why I chewed off my own leg, too. Being and staying sad means I can't get angry. If I ever allowed myself to feel rage at the complete and total injustices I've had to endure, what would happen? Not that it matters...I won't even eat meat because I don't want my life stained with blood, nor tarnish my soul through use, abuse, violence, and/or death.
Anyone who has been abused or suffered as a result of violence should feel the same. You're no better than the neighbor who knew but did nothing if you turn a blind-eye to the violence the rest of society silently accepts to (unnecessarily) sustain themselves. But please, continue shoving that rotting flesh into your colons! Don't let me stop you. Just remember, those you sacrifice for your own selfish needs have a way of taking out their revenge...in the end.
Though I can lift, push and pull hundreds of pounds--despite my other limitations--my greatest strength lies in my pen. There's a modicum of solace in that thought. Art is every human's savior, eh??? How unlucky we are to find ourselves physical creatures at the whim of each other, yet, how lucky that art exists as a way to not only translate, but transmute, our pain, our rage, our sorrow.
When you see me smile in pictures, I am not pretending to be happy...I am baring my teeth. There's a difference. We fixate on looking happy for social media. Putting forth positive images. But, that's not art. It's advertising...or, lies. Art is truth.
#Pain tells the truth, too. And, the true identity of those who cause it....