damik's Diaryland Diary

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And it marches still

Sometimes I'm amazed at how time still marches on. That no event, no matter how significant, will stop the passage of time.
Though in a way it does. Life can be devided into before and after the event. Twelve years before my father took us to visit with the intent of neversending us home again. Nine years sence he sent me home again. Nine years since the year I spent in darkness. Nine years since the first time I tried to kill myself. Time should have stopped there.
It's been eight years since I first learned the morbid joy of delibertly hurting myself. Less then eight years sence I spent afternoons walking home searching for what ever sharp object I could find. Seven years ago I kept a razor in my backpack always. Seven years ago I would sit in math class staring at the teacher cutting my arm. Seven years ago when it all came crashing down in earth science, when I could bring my test up to the teacher to grade because there were too many studants around and I wanted them to all just go away but they wouldn't. So I slid onto the floor and went hystarical.
Six years ago I was a sophomor. Six years ago I was sure Dan was my reason for being and my life would cese if we weren't togeather. Two years spent mooning over him before that. Five years and five months sence the world continued after we'd broken up.
Five years since I was asulted in the meat cooler at Smiths. Five years sence Trevor and I got togeather. Not even four years sence the thing we can never talk about least we admit it actully happened. Almost four years sence I moved in with Trevor. Four yeasrs since the first time I stopped cutting. Not last christmas but the Christmas before when I started again. Two Christmases ago when I drove to Shopko felling ashamed and like a failure because I was buying a long sleved night shirt to hide my cuts from Trevor. Fifteen months ago I searched desperatly for some kind of friend any one to let me know I matter. Fifteen months since the first person I turned to told me in no uncertian terms that he didn't care a whit about me or how I felt. Thirteen months since Trever and I weren't sure why we should try. A year since we had my boxes packed, I had my money saved, and a short list of apartment prospects. A year since I learned that sex can be the most humilating and degrading thing ever. A year sence I learned it didn't have to hurt. Ten months and ten days since the day that was supposed to change all our lives forever. But my life's gone on the same, time won't stop even for that. Seven months since I hit that age I never thought I reach. Seven months since he brought Jessica home with him. Six months ago we were going to call it quits again. Three months ago I would plan to get married but wouldn't again. Two months ago we made our pact, to date neither of us has actully acted on it. Sixty-four days since I last cut my self. And not a minut passes that I don't think about it.
And the hands keep moving on the clock. I want to stop them, I want to rip them off the face on which they lay. I want to distroy the mechanics that make them tick.
The sad thing is if I killed my self this Monday, it would have to be a Monday so Abby would have enough time to get a fill-in, time would still march on for every one else. Till I'm just a memory. And some body will think about it and shake their heads in wonder, that was really five years ago, that seems like a different lifetime.

1:29 a.m. - 07-21-02
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