Thursday, March 3, 2011

What's happening with Daniel

I realize I hadn't posted in a few days- sorry if anyone was worried. I've been keeping up on things, but since monday, nothing's happened that's warranted a post. Just hanging out with my mom and Ted and Aunt Caroline. Mom's teaching me to knit (Grandma Alice tried to teach me when I was little, but it didn't stick). It's a nice distraction, and I'm picking it up faster than I thought I would.

Anyway, as fascinated as you all surely are by my knitting prowess, that's not the reason I posted. I got a call from Officer Clinton today, telling me that I might not need to testify after all. Daniel is getting worse. And this somehow makes me feel like absolute shit.
When he broke into my house I thought he was going to kill me or worse. I can barely think about it still. And I wanted him to die. As much as I turn away from that, as much as I try to deny it and say it was exaggeration in the heat of the moment, when I look down into myself I see that cold hard truth.

I know of quite a few bloggers who have killed, in self defense or otherwise. Some are haunted by it, some take it in stride...some glory in it, and those ones scare me, no matter what else they're like. I'm afraid of that murderous impulse- in others, and in myself. I thought it wasn't there, but it is, buried under a load of bullshit, cowardice masquerading as pacifism or...I don't know. I hate that part of myself. I'm 21 years old and this is honestly the first time I've ever thought someone deserved to die...and he's dying. And every time I try to convince myself that I'm right, that he has it coming, that this is what he deserves, I think of that moment when he grabbed my arm and told me to remember his name. His eyes were desparate. I think even then he knew he was dying, and he couldn't do a damn thing to stop it.
I don't know how much he resisted the monster, or if he did at all. I don't know if he hurt me against his will. I don't even know who he is. But I wanted him dead...


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