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i was visited by an oft-invisible friend today.  she may not have realized it- or maybe she did- but i needed to see her.

it's odd.  i really haven't known her very long, nor do i know her especially well.  but somehow, we know that the other one carries within her a knowledge, an intuition of how the other one suffers.

but i don't mean to be cryptic.  the thing is, we are both fractured, cracked at the foundation.  i often wonder if we would be friends if we weren't, if either of us were "normal."

but we're not, and here we are.  and i wonder if i would have found the friends, my love, and my son, if i hadn't been mishandled, if i had had higher self-esteem and made less scarring mistakes. 

it's difficult to explain the images that haunt my dreams, the fears that grip my body, the self-loathing that whispers in my mind while i'm trying to pretend to live a normal life.  it follows me, stalks me, it is as relentless as i am determined, and it will not stop.  it's in my blood.

and it's damn near impossible to explain it to someone who hasn't experienced this kind of betrayal, to begin your young life knowing the inside-out feeling of knowing too much, and of knowing something so foul there aren't words for it, and there is no accountability.  no way to avenge, to make it right, to mend it or heal it.  you just learn to live with it, and sometimes, it kicks your ass to the point that you are curled up and crying, vomiting, hiding from life as your kid calls out for your touch.  and you go to him, and you die a little, and then rebuild a little, and you wonder how someone can embody the kind of evil that could harm something so helpless, how parental love could ever give way to betrayal, and crush a budding soul.

i probably will never stop fighting this demon.  she likely won't either.  and we will still hide sometimes, and loathe ourselves, but hopefully, on occasion, we'll still get together to root down and reach out, share a floor and share our stories.

(thanks, j.)