This ain't goodbye...or is it?

I watched Rent again for the first time in years. I was slightly afraid, like with many other things, that it would have been ruined or changed for me because my idealism is so battered and bent. But I still teared up at all the same parts. I still wanted to dance and sing to the same parts. And towards the end, I was still filled with an unfailing hope that was incredibly reassuring and needed.

I will admit that I have ghosts. There are moments when I relive the darkest parts of my life- the times when henry and eric made fun of me, that awful night with adam, or dad......dark, dark memories that paralyze me and allow the light to be sucked out.

But I'm fighting it.

Today was my last lesson with Ivan. There was this precious moment where, as he was blasting cheesy techno from his cheesy godfather's gift, we sat on the couch cuddled next to each other for warmth, playing tic tac toe and hangman. and i couldn't help but grin.

I realized as I left that it was yet another valuable learning experience. I changed a little boy from a monster to a sweet little fellow that loves to read and says "thanks" and "excuse me". That is much more amazing than making millions of dollars.

When I first started teaching Ivan, I would let tears trickle down my face and allow myself to indulge in wallowing pain as I drove to his house, hurridly wiping my face when I pulled up to the place. But now, today, as I drove away I played Keith Urban: If ever I could love and I realized how far I've come.

It's been a boring, occasionally dramatic, relatively monotone few months. And although there are many times when I've writhed and raged against how bored I've been, I think in a way I needed it. I needed some serious quiet time like right now, sitting in my room and just thinking quietly....just being at peace. Safe from the world, safe from my past and my future....collecting myself. Healing. Coming to terms, digesting, accepting things.

That's what I've done, isn't it? I've accepted it. I still get angry and sad sometimes, but I'm trying really hard to forgive everyone- and mostly, to forgive myself. I'm not a saint, I'm not a Christian- I still wish a horrible death on a handful of people.

But my raging hate has simmered down to a echo of anger at the back of my heart. With the comfort of home, albeit how irritating and irksome and awfully dull it can be, the noxious poison has been drained from my soul. I've come to terms.

I've come to terms. Yeah...those are the words.

Ghosts exist. I will admit that. But I'm refusing to let them haunt me anymore.

I'm alright :)