Anastasia's Closet

Monday, August 01, 2005

Welcome to Cali

Anastasia, Anastasia - how did you ever wind up here? More and more I find myself asking that question. Here I am in this beautiful city on the Pacific coast - with miles of sand and water stretched out before me . . . . and somehow, it is just not enough. I hate those people who love to tell you how good you have it - how so many people would be grateful to have what you have. Sure, I am grateful to get a paycheck and have a roof over my head and clothes on my back - I know this is more than some people can manage - but I know I am not grateful for the heartache that seems to follow me with every step I take, or the hopelessness that creeps up on me while I am busying playing "happy" with my peers. I am not grateful that I cannot sleep or that I can't stop overanalyzing my life. And I sure as hell am not grateful for the fact that I do not know how to be content. Quite frankly I cannot imagine life without turmoil. Forget about a peaceful childhood. Being abused has a way of turning you against yourself- always making others happy first, because you're unable to create a clear image of what your own happiness would look like. You don't know what you really look like behind the mask. If I don't know what I truly look like, and everyone else only sees the mask- where am I? Hidden beneath layers of pain and betrayal? Isolated from anyone who could have ever helped? Running from anything solid and stable..... I cannot blame my past for making me this way - I blame myself for relentlessly trying to push all the pain away without ever acknolweding it or letting it be real. I blame myself for equating sex with love. For not learning my value soon enough.
Sure, it seems petty to be concerned with these things when our men and women are dying in Iraq and Afghanistan and people are starving to death or dying of AIDS all over the world..... but part of humanity is accepting our own humanity, is it not? This, after all, is my world- however small a microcosm of society it may be .... there is life and death and struggle and failure and success and laughter and tears. What makes humanity so interesting to me is its innumerable variations - the fact that every living being has their own world and their own humanity - and like DNA or finger prints- no two are the same.
And yes I have lost my point - welcome to my world.


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