An inventory of the injuries sustained by the author over the past few weeks:
*bruise from my hip to halfway down my thigh from twisting on a swing and having the tortured chains take cruel revenge in me by swinging me into a pole
*bruises on my shoulder and knee from shoulder/back rolls for dance that healed over spring break and were reinduced by almost constant practice every day this week
*bruises on my inner thigh from trying to hop over a waist hiegth pole and failing miserably
but this entry is not just about my own injuries, it is about everyones. Today i found out out that one of my very good friends has been slashing her arm into catscratch thin cuts. I also found out why another of my good friends parents split up- his dad had a violent temper. And by violent, i mean it was expressed through violence. The reason his mom kicked him out finally was bc she came home from work to find a, and these are his words, "a fist size bruise on my little brother's ass through his diaper." And, to top it all off, its getting near the one year suicide anniversary of my friend who shot herself in the head in the girl's bathroom at her school. No one knows why. So today is just one of those days where one can lose complete faith in the world.
From Something Wicked This Way COmes:
"The trouble with Jim was he looked at the world and could not look away. And when you never look away all your life, by the time you are 13 you have done twenty years of talking in the world's laundry.
"Will halloway, it was in him young to always look just beyond, over, or two one side. So at thirteen he had saved up only 6 years of staring."
Today I was Jim. Who knows who I'll be tomorrow?