Tuesday, April 14, 2009

2. Two Notes Ago.

I left for work early today. I wanted to swing by the bus stop I take to go home to see if L left another note. Last night I toyed with the idea of communicating with L, I thought maybe I should leave a note on the door and say something like:

"Hi L! I am supporting you. Good Luck with your journey!"

Or something like that.

I also thought about why L was doing this; then, I decide that it may be therapeutic for L to write thoughts down. Then I realized L's notes are like people's blogs, except L writes it on paper and staples it to a door for all to see, but I wonder if people read it or if they don't even notice. I didn't notice for so months, it just blended in like part of the background. There is nothing that calls attention to it, it's just another flier, another notice, another thing to ignore. Then I think that it's odd how L left the notes at a bus stop that also blends in and I wonder why L doesn't leave the notes at a busy stop right in the middle of downtown, where more people would pass it, where more people could read it, where more people could ignore it; so maybe L picked this spot for a reason.

8:40. Perfect. I get to the stop and the note is still the same from yesterday. I decide to read more since I have time. There are no dates on these notes, so I have to assume that it's in chronological order. This one is two notes since the last one.

"It happened again. I became a monster last night. I let a small insignificant tiff turn into a full blown rage. It's as if I snapped and was no longer a normal human being. I became a sick animal burning with fury, a destructive force that leaves me on the verge of madness. Nothing can stop me. You can't try to reason with me. You can't try to leave me alone. You can't tell me what to do. Once I become this beast, I unleash my venom violently. I experience a rage-blackout. As soon as my ire becomes so strong that I cannot see straight, I know that I've lost control completely and I cannot be talked down. Somewhere in my mind I hear a tiny voice saying stop. stop. But I'm yelling so loud that I can't hear it. If I just listened to myself, I would have stopped something that went too far, because then the violence got physical. I push and pull and push and pull so hard I'm thrown back and I slip and fall and crash into the floor. I scream, a deep and desperate scream that makes it's point. I'm bruised and angry and embarrassed for falling and showing my weakness. Now I've lost the upper hand. That made me angrier. It goes on and on and on. And it leaves everyone in my path hurt so badly, so badly hurt, I hurt them so badly they become nothing but a shriveled up ball of nerves shaking in a corner, sobbing, begging, pleading for me to stop. The pain I hear in their voices vindicate me. I feel powerful. I feel in charge. I feel validated. No one will ever take advantage of me, but no one was taking advantage of me, I lost control.

I wake up the next morning and try to pick up the pieces.
I can see clearly now that the rage is gone."


WOW. Shit. 9:05. I was supposed to be at work 5 minutes ago and I'm 15 minutes away. As I race to work, I think about L. I wonder if L is a man or a woman. L is violent like an abusive wife beater, but thinks like a sensitive woman. I'm suddenly afraid. I'm afraid that L is a woman because I am a woman. I'm afraid because I am a woman who finds what happened two notes ago, not very unique. Two notes ago, two days ago, two months ago, two years ago, it could be today.


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