Nov 24, 2008

in a town without pity

Sometimes criminals are caught.


But usually well after their victims have stopped holding their breath.

I stopped holding mine long ago.

It was natural. There was no process involved. It just happened. And it's ongoing.

I just got the healthy idea to stop waiting for him to be caught.

I figured that out on my own. Without really thinking. Without so much as words. It was what I did. Instinct. An action. A lack of action.

It was how I rolled: I let go.

Have they caught him yet?

No. The answer was always no. Always followed by an apology. I'm sorry to not make you feel better right now.

(for what happened to me)

It's a bad question.

Even if he had been caught - I would have still gone through the period of not being able to eat.

Of ocassionaly forgetting how to swallow.

Of adopting the habit of walking on the street instead of the sidewalk.

Because it felt safer. Because oncoming traffic didn't scare me nearly as much as other people scared me.

Of having nightmares.

Of waking up coughing as though I had been choked - as though I had been suffocated.

That insane, animal first inhaling - Air!


Unreasonable, unconditional, desperate oxygen.

But, I never expected him to be caught. What with millions of crimes. Every day. Every year. Of course they hadn't caught him.

No. All I needed was to get my shit together again. I was the only one who would end what was happening to me. He would get no credit for that.

closure = bullshit

It suggests that there is some tangible thing out there. Available to people as an ending like a period at the end of a sentence. Something that happens in some orderly way.

Like steps running in a straight line toward something better.


And, say that you've announced in some stupid fashion that you've finally "gotten closure" (the pressure for closure being great).

And, then, three months later you realize you are back in the thick of it.

I'm sorry, due to things I never expected the previous "closure" spoken of is hereby rescinded - I apologize. I am sorry. There was no closure where there once seemed to be. Please, please - forgive me..

Then, just a few days ago, I got a call.

The person who attacked me was murdered on October 1st. He was identified by DNA.

He's dead.

Do you feel better? Does this give you a sense of closure?

Murder - make me happy?

I would rather he was caught while alive and made to answer to his crimes - and face his victims in court.

I never walked around feeling that this was something that stops due to anything outside of me. I never thought what happened to me was unique. People get victimized. People move on.

It isn't personal.

It wasn't about me.

I healed and I am not the same.

This ended five years ago.

This ended five minutes ago. Five months ago. Two years ago. Two days ago.

Because I let go; because I am letting go.

I end this. Not he. Me.

He didn't stop attacking women. He didn't turn himself in. He didn't apologize. He didn't pay for his crimes.

His death is merely an anecdote.

Yes. He will never hurt anyone again.

Yes. This is over.

That's what they're telling me.

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