Your Own Personal Jesus

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I know. Everyone wants me to crank.

Bin Laden took one to the head and the first thing that everyone asks me is how do I feel about it? I thought about not even talking about it on this blog. I said to myself...Self, let's not utter a word about how we feel about this because, frankly, it's nobody's business. But then again, Hobobob, why the fucking blog in the first place? This is where you get it off your chest, and really, in the fucking fog of your life, don't you want it off your chest?

Well, honestly, do you think that Bin Laden's death changes anything? Are all those images seared into my brain going to go away? Are all of those loved ones going to walk through the door and embrace their husbands, wives and children? My tired brain gave up on ever catching that fuck five years ago. Frankly I forgot about the son-of-a-bitch. I wasn't intending to spend every waking day of my life hoping beyond hope that they would ever catch that bastid. So he became a non-issue to me.

Then, out of the clear blue sky, there is a firefight and he is killed and that is supposed to make me feel better? I'd rather they throw the fuck off the top of the twin towers, but then again, such a victory would be hollow. Maybe lock him up in a cell where against the walls, faces of the people that died in 9/11, all just about 3,000 of them, flash on all four walls for the rest of his fucking life. How about that for a fitting punishment?

And then I realize, that still won't bring my life back to me. I still won't have my wife, my home, my belongings, my name, my health. I still will be living in an SRO on poverty funding and hopped up on hed meds. IT WILL NOT ERASE A FUCKING THING. There is no fitting punishment here, there's just letting go. Just walking away. I just want that fuck behind me. I'm even glad about that. I'll never have to think about him again. It's not about revenge for me, because, frankly, even if I got the chance to kill him myself, vengeance would not be served.

It would feel hollow. It would feel just like it does now. A point where I can go back to cleaning up the shit my life has become. I've heard someone say: "Well, at least this closes the book....." oh really? I don't think so. There is the book that our lives are written on, and 9/11 is for certainty a large ink stain on several pages that we've learned to flip and move on from. This is just the turning of another page for the rest of us. Closing the book happens when I die. There will never be closure for me. I'll still cry in my loneliness whenever some photo or movie reminds me of that day, those ugly weeks, that smell of death and damp destruction. There's never any closure over anything.

Another murderer is off the streets. I feel good about that.

Does it change things for me? Hell no.

Hobobob