futoncam journals - Lindsey
April Strikes Back - 4/8/2003 10:39 PM
And so it's April. In fact, it's well into April and I've abandoned you since March. Interesting, how these traits are learned. One of the most vivid memories of my childhood is sitting out on the porch while my father dragged my brother to his bedroom. I forget what he'd said or did, but my dad was going to paddle him. And he didn't just swing and be done with it, he dragged it out. He made you put your hands on the bed and he wait and wait and he'd yell and yell, until finally-
I remember curling into a ball as I heard my brother scream. And I wept for him, because I loved him. A few days later, the two of us were outside playing and I must have annoyed him because he hit me. He'd never hit me before, but he did occassionally for years after. And so they say violence is learned.
And so is abandonment. Which is why I have left you and so many others. The death of February did bleed over into March, but May's promise to April will not be forsaken. April will survive because the of the truth. Not the Truth, that sought-after ideal that will save me from an eternity of doubted existance, no just the truth- I was jilted in December and I was jilted through January.
And that's enough. I'm sick of trying to pull something positive out of it, of saying what I learned or what it's done for me. This is why April will survive, because April is angry and just so damn in love with May it's ridiculous. May is what January couldn't be, what I wasn't ready to do the first night I got back to Washington. I pushed this under the carpet and curled up in a ball and cried. And while I was "dreaming out loud" it grew and it grew and now, now with March and April lost I'm finally going to stand up.
And I'm angry. And it's harder to be angry than it is to be pathetic, but after this is over then it's all over. Then April and May can run off and have their flaming summer affiar- they can wrestle on the smoldering sidewalks, and slip into the grates, fuck around in the Patomic or nap on the National Mall. I don't care what they do, I'll be in an air-conditioned office, working on something besides urinals and janitorial union contracts and I won't be angry at December anymore, because just like everything, it passes and it goes away. He'll be on the other side of the spectrum, six months away, and it's over. It's time to let go of the shit and be angry a while.
Just a little while. Not four months of angry, not 360 degrees from falling in love. As a friend told me, "You've only tried two degrees, there's still 358 left." And so there is, and so I'm burning up from humiliation and I'm broken from a jilting, but enough. And I'm not going around it this time, that was March and that was a lame ass attempt at living. No, I'm cutting through it. Right fucking down the middle, the seas aren't parting on my left or my right. No, I'm swimming in the mud, but at least I'm not treading.
"If you're going through hell, keep going." Or so says Winston Churchill. Funny guy. Shame he was British. But I guess we'll be sort of related soon, as I'll be sleeping with Christina.