Soul's Suicide
by ysone
I killed myself today. I'm not talking literally, obviously, and I don't mean academically either. I'm talking about my soul. I killed my soul. To keep from betraying a friend, I betrayed myself. And I don't know if I'll ever recover.
I have a future, of course, but what will it be? It's not the one I had envisioned for myself. Not the one I had planned for, worked for, dreamed of for so many years. To be honest, I don't grieve for that loss as much as I thought I would. It hurts, but it's not the soul shattering feeling I had expected.
Maybe that's because I deserve the loss. I brought this on myself, though I'm not sure what I could have done to prevent what happened. I mean, who would consider their own mother a threat to their privacy? I love my mom, and I'm adult enough to understand that she meant well. Really. I know her heart was in the right place, even if her common sense wasn't. Naomi has always done what she thought best in any situation, with little regard for consequences or what anyone else may want. It's the way she is. It's who she is. I long ago gave up trying to change her.
What's done is done. The death of my dreams is the just reward for my actions or inaction or something. This I can live with.
But where to now? The police academy? I don't think anyone really expects me to take that offer. It was a token offer, sort of like a rhetorical question. No answer expected. None offered. I'm mature enough to know it's not a world which would -- or could -- embrace me right now, and rightfully so. Too much baggage.
I'll miss it. I love police work. I love the thrill of working a case until something, some little tiny clue clicks and all the pieces suddenly fall into place. It's really not so different from anthropology, you know. The same investigative skills are involved, the same reasoning and deduction, though they are channeled into different avenues. It's that same thrill of discovery. Not as dangerous, mind you, as detective work, but a thrill none the less. The past few years, working "unofficially" with Major Crime, I've made memories to last a lifetime. I have that, if nothing else.
It's the "nothing else" that worries me.
No, that's not fair. Not really. I still have most of the important things. I have my health, my family, such as it is, my...my, um...well, okay, I have my health and my family. I'm young enough to make a new life for myself. Whatever, wherever that will be. I'm flexible. Adaptable. Open minded enough to accept and adjust to whatever I have to do. I have enough education and life experiences to translate into a paying job. I won't have to flip burgers or sell time shares in Vegas or anything like that. I'll come out on top, which ever road I choose.
If a person can live without a soul.
I'm not naïve enough to think Jim and I could have continued forever as we were. I knew that sooner or later something would have to change. I would get my degree, or he would get a promotion, or one or both of us would move away in some manner. But I never thought it would end. I never considered that we would lose what we have between us, however you might want to define it. I thought that even if one of us stepped out in a different direction, we would still remain friends, at the very least.
The experiences of the past few years have formed a trust and faith between us, and they're still there. Alive. Viable. I trust Jim with my life today as much as I ever did. I have faith that he'll be there for me. I know that if I ever need a hand -- physical, financial, or whatever -- he'll offer it. I know Jim would never betray me.
But he let me betray myself.
And my soul died.
I'm a survivor. I'll survive this, too.
~~~~~~~
Sandburg is depressed. He hasn't said as much. He wouldn't. But I can see it in his eyes, the true windows to his soul. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to know why. He's lost it all.
He *gave* it all.
I'm still reeling from that.
Not the fact that he would give up his dreams and goals, his career and future. That's the way he is. He always reacts with his heart, to hell with common sense. He's very much like his mother in that regard. He's one of the most sincerely compassionate people I've ever had the pleasure to know. I'm amazed, but not surprised that he was so quick to give it all up.
What does throw me is that he gave it up for me.
I don't understand why he would do that. I've always known that the friendship which lies between us is different, special in a way I can't explain or understand, but that's okay. There's never been a need to. Some things don't need analysis. I'm willing to just accept and treasure it for what it is.
The problem is that sometimes...too often...I forget that. I forget that he's not like everyone else. He would never willingly, knowingly do anything to hurt or betray me. I know that...in my head. My heart has been known to forget that fact for a minute, and recently, it forgot again. It forgot, and I reacted, and now something special and precious has been destroyed.
I look in his eyes, and I see something dead or dying, and it tears at my spirit. I want to fix it. I just don't know if I can. I never thought of our friendship as something fragile, but I doubt even the hardiest of relationships could have withstood the storms we've weathered lately. Words said can never be withdrawn. Accusations made are immutable. And I made some strong -- and perhaps unfair -- indictments.
I think that was the death knoll. Had we stood together against this storm, we'd have survived, both of us, our lives, careers and friendship intact. Together, we're strong. Time and trial have proved it over and over. Together, we're undefeatable. But alone...alone we're vulnerable. At odds, we're doomed. We know one another too well. We know each other's weaknesses. We know where and how to strike to do the most damage.
Is this what I've done? Have I struck at his weaknesses, his vulnerabilities? I know the answers even as the questions form. I've struck a death blow. The victim? His soul. I alone can claim it's murder.
I alone can revive it.
He's made some mistakes. I forgive him. I've made some mistakes. I hope he can forgive me.
He's a survivor. I'm a survivor, too. Together -- together -- we'll survive and revive and build again that which has been destroyed.
The first step will be mine.