Wednesday, December 12, 2007

letter

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Jill, I have to say first off that I think you are going to be okay, that you are brave, that regret is healthy, that it will keep you from going back. It's okay to hate a part of yourself. Who says that we are only comprised of one way of being. We are facets of our experience. We are not naive because of this. We can sympathize with hardship. We can despise the weaknesses in others knowing that they can be overcome with enough analytical torture.

For me, from the Jackson pill epidemic, I am traumatized too. In my case everyone around me fell and I couldn't stop watching everyone die and become helpless and miserable, people I had the most faith in turning into shadows. It is my biggest heartbreak and I am still numb and untrusting from it feeling if I loosen up and become less of a cynic, love people, they will inadvertantly at the last minute turn into self destructive monsters.

The Stephen/Chan thing was the worst, but it's fine now. If it hadn't been for the hatred of that situation affecting me, I might not be in Austin now surrounded by love from beautiful people in a healthy environment. I might not've been able to recognize troubled or weak people from the start to avoid them, the signs of addiction in someone's eyes, in their demeanor.

I learned a lot, but the price was paid, my heart has been broken into a million pieces in the process. And that's just me. For you I can't imagine. I can't. It scarred me, but it amputated your limbs in a way and now you're limping painfully around until all your wounds heal, and still you will carry this pain of knowing with you for a long time.

Analogies, smenalogies...you are free now, you are away from it, them, you are clean, you can start over and begin to forget after some time, you need to get speckeled composition books and fill them page for page with your thoughts, from the begining to now until you're sick of looking at the words.

You have been through hell, but you are alive, thank fucking everything, you've still got your looks, you can immerse yourself in the city life, make art, get a camera, start taking pictures of life, you are alive and not on very addictive pills anymore.

You have not had children, you are thin and beautiful, become someone's muse, get three boyfriends, enjoy flavors neglected through being numb all the time, smells, and the company of people who will appreciate you for being a hard core survivor.

You are amazing for getting away. I am your friend. I will help you and listen to you talk and you can visit me in Austin. I have a beautiful life here, now. Jackson's fucking hell hole and the only people left there are the most worthless fucks that the world will forget about. You're awesome, Sabra
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