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2004-09-10

Hat-trick of Hurt Me

Yesterday I gave my cats, my girls, the ones I raised from kittenhood to over 4 years of age, to a complete stranger. She was nice, and maybe they'll have a better home. But the image frozen in my head is of them cowering in a car as I handed them off to someone they'd never smelled before. When I sat down, the emptiness of my lap, the silence without their familiar mews was too much to bear, and I left, still in tears.

Today I convicted a man on 12 counts of armed robbery, and with this, he might be going to jail for life. Justified? I'm convinced. But it's still a hard thing to sit in a courtroom and say "yes" twelve times as the verdict is being read with the man in the room, looking at each of the 12 as we uttered the damning word.

Tomorrow is the third anniversary of the day my cousin Jeffrey stormed into the World Trade Center, along with his fellow firemen, giving his life to save many others. While my family gathers and mourns, I'll be at my 10-year high school reunion, wondering who I have to prove what to and why.

A hat-trick of emotionally draining events is pushing me down, down, and all I want to do is keep crying, despite the fact that I'm dehydrating myself with all these tears, despite my pounding head, my swollen sinuses, from sniffling, from shaking. I have so much work to do, so much research, so much writing, and that too, looms above me because I must rely on other people to assist me with said research, and other people, unfortunately, have proved to be more disappointing than not.

I can't fucking DEAL. I wonder how close I am to some kind of mental meltdown. I think I'll just turn off my phone and crawl under something. Eventually, my tear ducts are bound to dry up. But I'm not holding my breath.

-Barbarella

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Hat-trick of Hurt Me 2004-09-10 3:59 p.m. Yesterday I gave my cats, my girls, the ones I raised from kittenhood to over 4 years of age, to a complete stranger. She was nice, and maybe they'll have a better home. But the image frozen in my head is of them cowering in a car as I handed them off to someone they'd never smelled before. When I sat down, the emptiness of my lap, the silence without their familiar mews was too much to bear, and I left, still in tears.

Today I convicted a man on 12 counts of armed robbery, and with this, he might be going to jail for life. Justified? I'm convinced. But it's still a hard thing to sit in a courtroom and say "yes" twelve times as the verdict is being read with the man in the room, looking at each of the 12 as we uttered the damning word.

Tomorrow is the third anniversary of the day my cousin Jeffrey stormed into the World Trade Center, along with his fellow firemen, giving his life to save many others. While my family gathers and mourns, I'll be at my 10-year high school reunion, wondering who I have to prove what to and why.

A hat-trick of emotionally draining events is pushing me down, down, and all I want to do is keep crying, despite the fact that I'm dehydrating myself with all these tears, despite my pounding head, my swollen sinuses, from sniffling, from shaking. I have so much work to do, so much research, so much writing, and that too, looms above me because I must rely on other people to assist me with said research, and other people, unfortunately, have proved to be more disappointing than not.

I can't fucking DEAL. I wonder how close I am to some kind of mental meltdown. I think I'll just turn off my phone and crawl under something. Eventually, my tear ducts are bound to dry up. But I'm not holding my breath.