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Friday, May. 16, 2003 / 10:30 p.m. ~Give Me Some Time~ I need some time. That's all. I can't not write. I'm still writing, in different places. Today, in my notebook, in another online journal, places I feel comfortable. Places no one will see, or only certain people, and I can choose, I can. I feel violated. If you knew what was written about me, on a message board, in another diary or two, or more, how misunderstood I was. Imagine someone listening to you and twisting all your words, saying them back to you backwards and upside down and spitting at you, hitting you with your words, that aren't even your words anymore. You only recognize fragments. The level of frustration is unexplainable. I don't look for 'hits' to this diary, I don't have banners, I cringe when I see a new IP in the stats, I constantly consider locking, passwords, possibilties, I've been accused of outrageous things. It's not to be believed, but I read it, I had it all bookmarked for days, I dwelled, I cried, I shouted and I wrung my hands, I typed feverishly, letters to friends, and I linked, privately, 'Read this!', and 'Read this!', but they, not one, understood what I felt. How hurt I was. No one. I'm filled with analogies, I can think of hundreds for what happened, but no one can understand what it felt like. It will all be twisted around anyway. This is an unsafe place, it feels dangerous and wrong, like a dark alley with people hiding in the dark corners, waiting to attack. This is temporary. It will be black later. Today the light in the sky was like the annular eclipse in the early '80s, I can't remember the year, but it was perfect light, and the greens were extravagant, the trees lush and alive. Cost of the War in Iraq
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