every inch but one

[rm]

Feel free to skip this and just read the link at the bottom, but do read it.

I have a terror of those survivalist bootcamp things that folks send "delinquent" kids to. I'm not sure why really. For all the drama that can be said to have been in my childhood, none of it looked like that. But I suppose I know that in another time and place, it could have just as easily been me, and I suppose I often forget how old I am now.

It is not the sort of thing I can read about without feeling physically ill. And it always makes me think of V for Vendetta (the graphic novel), the boy who introduced me to it, his sister with all the ear piercings, and their mother, who beat the girl's head against the ceramic sink in their house when she dyed her hair blue, lest she be queer like her brother.

I remmeber ghosts in their house, and the ways in which the brother was cruel to me. One night he stuffed socks into my mouth, held a spork to my face, and threatened to gouge my eyes out if I didn't stop grinding my teeth in my sleep. I was tired, and I went back to it; this is the nature of college.

I remember that one inch.

I am lucky, but I am not, for whatever reason, distant from this. Neither should you be too.

http://samiblackmire.livejournal.com/1202827.html

Comments

[rmjwell.livejournal.com]

I am fortunate that I had a mother and grandmother who never subjected me to even the hint of this sort of shit. I weep for those who did not have my blessings. Thank you for posting the link.

In return consider this entry from Bruce Schneier about a different, more subtle kind of child terror.