Saturday, June 20, 2009

Not tired, can't sleep, don't know why.

I don't know why I can't sleep, why I'm not tired and why everything else.

Just thought I could leave this post happy and good things, the person I want to see the least showed up. I don't know what her problem is, I don't want to see her and she just don't seem to understand. Her, meaning my ex girlfriend from junior high. Yes you heard me right, from junior high. Her Dad got stationed in Germany but hey, since it's summer and she and her mom is on vacation visiting her grandparents, she thought "it'd be fun" to come and track me down and "just say hi".

I don't need someone who I haven't seen since 8th grade (that's what, 4 years?) show up on my life and have a "surprise" for me. She didn't even know I got hurt, she doesn't know a lot of things and her showing up. was a mess and I did not want to re-live how I got hurt down to the deepest detail.

I took her off post to Sonic and just like a stranger that don't know anything about my injury, she stared without asking any questions. That upsets me more than one who ask questions none stop. I am not a statue nor am I a stone. Staring at me with that look in the eyes doesn't help. We just sat there for an hour, and for once, she had nothing to say. She just stared at me and I stared back.

When will society and the people learn not to stare quietly? When will society and the people learn to stare and ask questions? I wonder if I'll live that long to see it happen.

As I'm sitting in my room, looking around what was once a room full of trophies, posters, it's strange to say that for some reason, I have never felt the feeling I am feeling now. This house belongs to the government, it belongs to the Army, and as I'm sitting in my chair staring at the walls, I wonder if the years I lived here made a difference for the house.

I'm a brat and really, lived in many different houses already in my life. But for once, I am wondering about the people who lived in this house before me and wonder who will be living here after me. I wonder if the things I've done in this house will make any memories for others and the house itself. Somehow, I felt as if the houses I live are like letters and my family and many others are the post office stamps that leave marks on these "letters".

There's a saying "The walls have ears" and sitting in my chair at 0250, I wonder if they can hear me. I wonder if what I say to it now will make a difference. I wonder if I tell them my darkest, deepest secret, they'll hold it in the wall spaces and someday, think of me.

And for some strange reason, I have the biggest urge to put my hand against the wall, kiss it, and cry. I sure am going to miss this house. I really am.

Talking, kissing, crying to walls...I think I'm going nuts. Am I?
I bet I am...


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