Just a Fading Memory

July 18th, 2003
I went and saw Hal again last night. He doesn't sleep much either, says the meds keep him awake. My shift ended, and I walked into his room carrying a big folder.
"What's that you got there, peach?" Hal smiled a little, a very subtle smile.
"Applications," I smiled back, but bigger. "I'm learning to listen to my elders."

We chatted some, but mostly I worked. He said he knew I'd be bringing these by.
As I filled out form after form for transcript requests, SAT scores and personal essays, I felt a little more right on the inside. Like someone was plucking all the shrapnel out of my throat and my heart. Like something was changing me, burning away who I used to be.
I know that Afghanistan changed me. For the better, I hope. I have a feeling I won't really know for a while.
I just know I'm not the same Laurel I was when my mom died. I'm scared and skittish and I don't like people touching me and most of the time I'd just rather be alone. So of course I'm pursuing a career where I'll be surrounded by people. Maybe, just maybe, if I can figure out how to fix them, I'll learn how to fix me.

"I used to be so big and strong, I used to know my right from wrong.
I used to never be afraid, I used to be somebody.
I used to have something inside, now just this hole it's open wide.
I used to want it all.
I used to be somebody.
I'll cross my heart and hope to die, but the needle's already in my eye.
And all the world's weight is on my back and I don't even know why.
And what I used to think was me is just a fading memory..."
Nine Inch Nails, Down in It