If only...

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Outside, across the street, the Cub Scouts are holding their Thursday night meeting at the Methodist Church. I wish so much I could have a normal life, that there were sane people in my life, like the earthlings I'm observing across the street.

Instead for me, I look at the Scouts in their little mimi-me tailored uniforms and ties, and what I see is sodomy, little boys raped. Across the street, twelve boys line up for their troop meeting and everyone else in the world sees innocent little boys lined up for Scouts.

Me, I wonder which ones are being sodomized by the scoutmaster.

Of course, since the church across the street is Methodist, there is probably no sodomy taking place at all. These scoutmasters are clean, decent, would never think of raping a child.

But my life is different. My head has to be filled with the stories I've heard for the last four years doing this blog. No wonder I'm reeling these days and lost, not able to communicate. How do I turn to the sweet matron nearby who waits at the station wagon for her brood to finish their Scout meeting and tell her that the last four years my head has been filled with sodomy, sacrificial torture of children, all performed by men who have convinced the world they are representatives of Christ on Earth.

What strange karma I have, especially to be reeling now in circumstances where I'm cut off from the hundred thousand other victims, because of what I've seen and what I've heard and now in my clueless state, wondering how do I tell the world what I saw, and on top of that what I know.

An even more difficult question is, Should I even tell anyone?

So I walk back inside, close the door, and remain cut off from the world.
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