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For the so-called "Real World": this past weekend, in the night between Saturday and Sunday, worlds were shaken. I don't know how many, but those of us who were affected will never be the same. I can't describe it any better than Jewel, so I'll just liberally steal and spell-check what she wrote in her journal.
Sunday, March 18th, 2001
3:11 am - "good night, my dear"
Just follow along. I'll explain later.She bounded in the dark room, full of energy as she always was. She reached to turn on the lamp, but jumped at the touch of another hand on hers. She turned to see the tall, dark, and yes, handsome young man standing behind her in the dark. Again she reached to turn on the light, but his hand stopped her once more. "What are you doing here?" she asked, pulling away from him. He brushed away her hair and gently kissed her neck. She pulled away again, almost disgusted by his touch. "I want you to leave. Please." she continued as she walked into the large dining room. "But why? No one's here. It's just us." he urged, grabbing her hands once more. "I want you to leave and never come back!" she demanded and tried to pull away. His grip was too tight for the girl, and she struggled to get away from him.
What do you think happened next? This just happened to someone I know (I won't say who) and she will never be the same. I feel sorry for her. She was already depressed.
My immediate response was a flood of anger, a fierce desire to jump through time and space with magical daggers I so often wish I have and do something. But all I could do was type a totally inadequate comment, grab a flashlight, and run through my little patch of woods across the snow, trying to leave it--and myself--behind.
I also kept a mini journal of the event; it's available here. The whole thing brought a quiet struggle to the surface. I'd been fighting with a demonic part of me since early 1995 or so, maintaining control except in the odd moment where I'd lose my mind. I never killed anyone, but I was always afraid I would. I was never aware of losing or regaining my normal mind when it happened. Only from the stories of others (who thought all this was funny) did I learn that I wasn't perfect. This demon loves power... so that imagining being that guy and enjoying it was as easy as looking in a mirror. That's a terrifying thought.
But in the darkness, there was someone to turn to. Over the next couple of days, we exchanged a lot of email. She accepts me. All of me, even the parts I don't accept. Just as she brought this entire site to life, she gave me something to hold on to on my trip through hell.
Jewel: I love you. All of you, even when you hate what you made with it. And you will always be a part of me, since my best and worst experiences--and even who I am--have all been touched by you.
So there I was in Linear Algebra class this morning, taking notes on vector subspaces, when a thought crossed my mind. "Obviously, I exist to help others, because nobody can take that away. Money, fame, and power are all transient, but there will always be someone to help."
Earlier, I mentioned never being the same. I no longer carry a knife, nor do I have any interest in learning how to fight. But that's okay, because this way, I won't get in trouble with the law as easily.
Truth is not enough.
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