And the nearness of there---/Feels more near----/To here

Been doing pretty well. The stuff that I've been blogging about is in the past and I honestly can't remember it all that well. It's kind of... distant and dreamy. Even when I try to think about it, I don't remember it all that well and it doesn't cause any sort of emotional response. So that's... good.

Anyway. I found out I have some issues.... or actually, I researched some problems that I have, therefore verifying them as issues. Not-such-hot stuff. I've been dealing with it for years, though. And I have no way of getting it out of my system now, so I just have to keep living with it until... I have no clue. Until I break, or until I die, or until it eats me from the inside out... Or something. Gah, it's so complicated. I don't know how I manage to get myself into such ruts. Seriously. I suck.

I am so, so, so sick of myself.
Nothing new.

Oh yeah. I'm supposedly an INTJ, and I've been wasting time researching the intj personality type. And I came across this description, which made me laugh so hard! Or---more like the INTJ style-- grin wryly, at least. Erm, yeah. It's actually pretty accurate in how I represent myself...since I tend to not represent myself.

INTJ: loner, more interested in intellectual pursuits than relationships or family, not very altruistic, not very complimentary, would rather be friendless than jobless, observer, values solitude, perfectionist, detached, private, not much fun, hidden, skeptical, does not tend to like most people, socially uncomfortable, not physically affectionate, unhappy, does not talk about feelings, hard to impress, analytical, likes esoteric things, tends to be pessimistic, not spontaneous, prone to discontentment, guarded, does not think they are weird but others do, responsible, can be insensitive or ambivalent to the misfortunes of others, orderly, clean, organized, familiar with darkside, tends not to value organized religion, suspicious of others, can be lonely, rarely shows anger, punctual, finisher, prepared

I am Earth and//Dirt and//You?//

Last night was the ambulance meeting. Nobody really said anything about the call before the meeting started, so I just kind of assumed that it had been pushed to the past and gotten over. I didn't think they'd bring it up.
WRONG.

As soon as they started, Dan told what happened, how traumatic it was, etc. He announced me, and talked about how brave I was and yack, yack, yack, giving me way more credit than half of what I deserved. And then he asked me, in front of everyone, how I felt. And when I said I was fine, he then asked me to expand and explain how I am processing things because, "The remembering happens 'after' and sometimes it 'helps' to 'talk' and 'get it all out' and I shouldn't have to carry the 'burden' alone.
Err... what burden?
Say what?
So I had to talk in front of a whole room of people. Trauma over trauma! What was that about? I hate speaking. And Dan's eyes were actually bright and slightly red-rimmed when I was done. (So I guess I wasn't a complete speaking failure?)
And anyway, they treated me like I was suffering from PTSS or something. It was actually quite interesting.
[Note to self: stop smiling at inopportune times.]
Up to this point I hadn't told anyone about what happened, not my friends or family. In fact, I wasn't planning on talking about it, either. I had joined the ambulance with the expectations of dealing with some stuff, and so I don't think I was completely taken back by what happened. Granted, I hadn't expected it so soon, but it didn't... I don't know. I guess I wasn't effected that heavily. So yeah, when they asked me to "Let it out" my first thought was, "Let what out?" And when they asked me to "Talk about it" my first thought was, "Talk about what?"
Seriously. Bleh.
I don't understand....
I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine.
I haven't even cried about it. To see Dan's red eyes was kind of... shocking. I don't know. If I feel traumatized now, I think it would be because people are pressing it on me and treating me like a victim or something. I suck at crying. In fact, I don't think I even know how to cry. I don't think I'd know how to if I wanted to. Am I so cold and heartless?

I can comfort a widow with my arm around her, and say how sorry I am, but when I walk away I can laugh and joke and forget.

This sucks, man. I'm afraid all the ambulance people are gonna track me down and make me talk. Aahaha. ^_^ They did say something to the effect that I should hook up with one of them for counseling over the week. Whaaaaat?? Oh boy. I'm over my head now! Sheesh, I think it's about time to drop off planet earth... haha

Um. Anyway. I journal. And not just here. I have a journal for my eyes alone, where I write what happened and recall as many details as I can, and so... journaling is a real good support bases. Since I seem to be incapable of expressing myself in front of people. And I only act on what's expected of me. (My self-monitoring and interaction-detail-awareness has always scraped the sky.) But anyway, it feels really good to be able to journal here on this blog, because I know that it's possible for other people to read it. Without knowing me personally. And that kinda makes me feel good, because I wouldn't dare tell people what I write here.

And anyway. God has been so good to me. Through this whole thing, I've kinda been.... I don't know. In a fog, if you would. I can't see, and I question and doubt and cope in some ways that I shouldn't be coping. But through it all, there's an awearness that God is THERE. It's in the back of my mind all the time, and sometimes I forget about it or push it away, but sometimes it springs up.... a flash of lightning in the dark. There for a moment, gone the next. But the feeling lasts. And I KNOW, even when all I can see is fog and it's so easy to overlook.

So yeah. My scripture for today is....

If I say, "Surely the darkness shall fall on me," Even the night shall be light about me;

Indeed, the darkness shall not hide from You, But the night shines as the day; The darkness and the light are both alike to You.
Psalm 139:11-12

God bless you.
I know He will.

Trampled Rose

My second ambulance call was yesterday.
Marea, who has been on the ambulance for ten years, said she's never been on a call like that one.
A paramedic, afterwards when we were cleaning up the ambulance, asked if I was new. "Yes," I said. "This is my second call."
"Yeah," he said. "Shit happens."
We laugh. Like letting 02 out of the oxygen tank.
"If you ever need to talk about what happened, you can always talk to me," said Marea. I thanked her, and told her I was okay.

I've seen stuff before. I've seen starvation, and stick people that don't look human, and aids, and illness and babies with bugged eyes, and abuse, and stuff that is so weird I still don't know what to think of it.
But I still don't know how to feel after. Should I immediately get over it? Afterwards I can laugh and eat and be happy and forget when entertained. I can turn up the volume and zone out. Should this make me feel guilty? To what point am I supposed to feel responsible? Should I?

Nevertheless, I was thankful that I was able to be on the call. I want experience. I got it. And I am glad for it. I hope that I can be trained to the point where I can function fluently without being in the way-- a scrawny 17-yr-old trying to melt in the wall.
Sometimes I think that I must be a hard-hearted apathetic piece of trash.
But hell, the whole world's dying.

On another note, I think I know a little bit more about what I want to work towards for my future. I think I want to work with human trafficking victims. Nameably, young girls. In India. Which would mean knowing a lot of counceling. Knowing how to talk to young girls that get locked in cages and raped repeatedly until they feel like robots with no name and no will. And trying to teach them that they have worth.
This world sucks, sometimes.
I have to find out how to go about persuing this goal. And what schooling I need. And stuff like that. I don't even know how to begin, though.
It's okay. It'll come, in time. God knows.
Everything.

The sky. The ocean. The wind.

The stone was cold.
The shadow of the wall caste a blanket of obscurity across the ground.
Weakness huddled under this blanket of obscurity. His back was to the stone-cold wall. Tremors ran up and down his spine and disbursed through his rigid body. Beads of sweat glistened on his clammy skin. A drop of sweat slipped down his forehead and into his eye. Stinging. The sweat froze on his body like tiny particles of ice. Cold shadows. His teeth, which he ground so tightly together, chattered. A moan slipped past them and into the air: a beaten puppies whimper.

Cylone stood in the threshold of the doorway, perfectly still. He looked into the corner of the room, and his bright eyes pierced the shadows of obscurity. Burning light slipped past him, coming from the world outside. The light stung Weakness' eyes. The sight of Cylone standing so still and calm in the doorway, as if he had always been there, sent a spasm of fear vibrating through Weakness. A cry wreathed out of his parched throat. He pressed his back into the cold stone wall until it hurt. Every muscle in his body went rigid. And froze.

Cylone stepped across the thresh hold. The door shut behind him. Shutting out the light. Everything was darkness. A thick, cold, palpable darkness. It dripped with fear.

Weakness' eyes frantically scanned the darkness, but he saw nothing. Nothing but empty blackness.
His teeth were ground together so tightly that waves of pain trickled up his jaw and through his head. He laid very still, every muscle tense, waiting...

Something cold lightly touched his chest. A hand, palm-downward.
Weakness julted at the touch, but the wall was to his back, and he could not get away from it.

"Are you still trying to escape?" asked a voice. Smooth. Calm. Airy. The sky. The ocean. The wind.

Eyes suddenly adjusted, Weakness saw the shape of Cylone, bent over him. And his face. And then the eyes in his face. And the eyes were so intense they seemed to swallow up the entire face: endless pools. Vaster than the sky. The Ocean. The Wind. The eyes were light, like laughter. And they hurt, but Weakness could not look away.

His throat was parched, but words somehow came out. They sounded like sand-paper. "I have tried to get away, but I hit the wall. And now I am alone with myself." He inhaled a raged breathe full of air as he tried to continue."I did not want this. And now you are here.... after so long. How did you know?"

Cylone ran his hand down Weakness' body. His touch was cold, but warmth came into the trail that it left. There was something in that touch. Something of the opposite of the cold, and the stone, and the fear, and the loneliness. Something.... and though Weakness did not like the touch, he found that a new sensation of life was breathed into his lungs.

"How did I know?" Cylone repeated, and something like a laugh echoed out of Cylone's throat. It was a small sorrowful laugh.
Smooth. Calm. Airy.
It vibrated through the core of Weakness' being. "But don't you know? I always know. I always watch. I always wait. Until the time is right. Until you hit the wall. Ah, and don't you know that I follow, wherever you go?"

His touch grew warmer, and his eyes grew more vast, until they had swallowed Weakness completely.
The sky. The ocean. The wind.
Consuming.
Gentle, like laughter.