Echoes

I don't know why it still gets to me after all these years. Why it still has the power to hurt me. It shouldn't. It was a long, long time ago. But every once in a while, it creeps back.

I didn't do anything. I was an innocent...okay, maybe not innocent. I'd seen too much by the age of ten to really ever look at anything with completely innocent eyes. But I'd never done anything to anyone.

So a few weeks ago on Myspace, I saw someone I used to kinda know. Someone I'd had a little crush on. His name is Javier. So I friended him...wondering if he'd remember me. He did, and he accepted my friend offer. And so the little emails of re-aquaintance started. It was nice, finding that he'd noticed me. Remembered me. Even though we were mostly passing friends. His younger brother knew me better.

And then came those words..."I remember you. You seemed sweet. I never could understand why the girls never liked you. Must've been a high school thing." Those words, those hurtful words...always the bane of my existence since I was a little girl. I never understood what it was I'd done, or didn't do...that made girls dislike me so much. I never stole their boyfriends. I was always nice. I didn't get catty or gossipy. And yet I was never really accepted.

When I was in high school I ran into this girl Amy. I thought she and I were friends. I hadn't seen her since I transferred Jr High's back in 6th grade. She stopped and talked to me. And she told me "We all hated you back then." I didn't understand and asked why...they'd always been nice to me. Her response? "It was never anything you did. We just didn't like you. But we knew better than to be mean, you had all the boys."

I didn't get it. I guess I still don't. I was a tomboy back then. Those boys she was talking about considered me one of them. I love sports, I'm more comfortable in jeans, I don't primp in front of the mirror, I wear little to no make up. I never stole their boyfriends. If anything, more often than not, I played match maker.

And yet the cycle was clear...and has been repeated for most of my life. They're nice to my face, and grind the axe in my back when I turn. I know it now. I'm not as naive. It only hurts sometimes. If they'd only known. I was and still am...just one of the guys. And oddly enough, I maybe should be grateful. I didn't suffer from a lot of the same types of self esteem issues that most of the girls my age did. I was comfortable in my own skin. I didn't worry about being too fat or being flat or if boys noticed me. I knew I was smart. I knew I was loved by the few friends I let in. I knew I could be anything I wanted to be and do anything I wanted to do. I knew early just how much of a survivor I was.

But damn, I always wondered what it would be like to have a bunch of girl friends that I could trust to watch chick flicks and giggle with. Just once, I'd have liked to have been accepted as one of the girls...

To The Depths

I finally got around to watching the final two episodes of Grey's Anatomy last weekend. It took me until now to be able to write coherently.

Kirk thought I was crazy. As I was watching the second to the last episode, I couldn't sit still. I couldn't stay in the room. I couldn't breathe. He didn't understand. To him it was just a show. To me it was a terrifying fear, one caused me to feel as though my heart were breaking again...the memories of some of the toughest moments of my life uncovered like the sun burns out the fog.

My reaction was purely emotional, completely irrational. I couldn't watch what Izzy was doing in the name of love. I couldn't justify it. I could barely wrap my mind around it. Even as I knew what she was doing and why, my soul was screaming out. The storyline brought me back to the deaths of my brothers...so vibrant and young...much, MUCH younger than Denny. Paul died at the age of 2...placed on life support for about a week prior. We donated his organs. Jonathan died at 10. His salvageable organs also donated. Someone out there has my brother's corneas. Someone else now has his kidneys. And I couldn't be more grateful for their lives. There's a comfort in knowing that somehow, somewhere...my brother made a difference...living on in that person, bettering that person's life.

They were taken away from me harshly, suddenly, irrevocably. So to watch Izzy deliberately shorten Denny's life on a chance...a whim...to take a chance away from another person, who also had people who loved him...who had kids who depended on him...? I had such a hard time. I couldn't watch her justify shortening his life as a viable way to steal a heart from someone else. I couldn't bear to see her take chances with a life she claimed was so prescious. I could hardly see past the wrong that she was doing...that didn't help him...only her. And turned out to be the wrong gamble anyway.

And it's not that I didn't sympathise with how Izzy was feeling. I did...better than many can understand. But to be so utterly selfish as to do what she did...it's hard. Not only does it bring back images I try to shove to the back of my mind daily of my brothers laying...shells of who they used to be...connected to tubes and respirators, but it breaks my heart for people who deserve the right to a normal life. I know how I would've felt had it been my brothers who had gotten bypassed for someone else due to a person's selfishness.

And I was heartbroken for Izzy when Denny died anyway. I felt for her. It doesn't change the fact that what she did was awful and selfish....and probably an action she'll regret forever.

Would You?

If you could have one night of amazing sex with the person of your dreams...but you knew that it would also mean your death within 24 hours, would you do it? This has been a topic of conversation since we came home and found THIS MANY dead love bugs on our front porch after being gone for 4 days. Apparently, after they have sex, they die within 24 hours. So if you could have sex with anyone in the world, who would it be? And would you do it if you knew you'd die in 24 hours if you did it? The guys were pretty clear...it would be Jessica Alba for them, but oddly enough...despite the fact that she's their fantasy girl...they weren't willing to die for that night. Mine would be Tom Welling...but I'm not willing to give up my life for him. I did have a friend who would make that sacrifice for Paul Walker, though... Hmmmm... What about you?