Time was running out. I stormed out of the shower, dried myself, and got dressed the fastest way possible. As I was driving to work, I felt no urge to put on the radio, and listen to all the speculations. Instead, I turned on the volume as loud as possible to a Diana Ross tune, and tried to drowned out my thoughts. I was not successful, and before you knew it, I was lining up all sorts of questions about all this. The more I thought, the more questions I had, and frankly I was becoming a little anxious, maybe even paranoid.
The moment I got to work, I realized that it was impossible to not talk about Osama. The television was on, and everyone in the office was making comments about this and that. I went for my coffee, came back and sat silently. That lasted about 2 minutes. Before I knew it, I had joined in the banter about the killing, and all the details. My boss kept asking if it was true that his body was thrown in the ocean. She was skeptical…Thank God someone felt like me.
The talks, and laughs have dwindled down, and I have become reclusive in my corner all over again. A second cup of coffee is keeping me company. While email after email is making me send people all over the world, I am in a state of denial again. I am plagued by thousands of questions, and a bit troubled I must confess. Somehow the news that finally there can be some closure to one of the most bloody events in recent years has made me more skeptical than ever. I don't feel any relief, and peace seems far away for us, as I see it.
Oh, how I long to be! ... back in the safety of my bed, in the company of those erotic dreams...