Pulse - One Year Later
Here we are, one year later. I want to post something uplifting, something hopeful, but today has just been surreal, for lack of a better term.
Time passes and people forget. Guests forget. I remember for a week after that the uneasy quiet there was when Guests approached Cast. The sad smiles, the apologies, the questions. I remember the day we found out that every single call in was reason to panic, even more so if the person was a no call no show. Eventually everyone was found
After that, we had to band together and still put on a show, trying our best to not break down on stage. Some of us succeeded, others did not. But Guests didn’t stop coming, so we couldn’t stop either. So many hallow performances, I almost pity the Guests who came that week as they certainly didn’t get the best out of our Cast.
But time passes and we eased back into the routine. Guests stopped being cautious, so we had to stop being sensitive. But everyday was a reminder, especially for those in the LGBT+ community, and doubly for those who knew or lost someone.
Every time a Guest got pissed off about the security you can see somebody flinch, or maybe its just me. You try to wrap your mind around the fact that terror wasn’t the reality for these people. So you go from not talking about it, to causally mentioning it when dealing with these kinds of Guests. And the responses progressively get more infuriating. Going from “Oh, right sorry.” to “Oh, yea.” to “Oh, that thing that happened.” to “So?”. Because it wasn’t their reality, it was just the sad story of the week to them, and they forgot.
Even the Cast changed. College Program kids came and went twice, thoroughly diminishing the people who were actually here for it. So today was nothing more than a historical remembrance, and I cannot blame them. For we all see it everyday. Whether it be specific days like 9/11 or general like Memorial day, most people either just briefly acknowledge it or ignore it completely unless they had someone personally tied to the events.
And you realize just how blissfully ignorant you were, because you know you will carry this scar, this experience, for the rest of your life. And you know that you don’t even have it as bad as the people who experienced it first hand, or lost someone who they were close too.
But you play different scenarios over and over in your head because it could have been you. You had been there before. You had close friends who go. It’s your community, a safe place to go and have fun.
You wonder what would have happened if you had gone that night, or if your close friends had. And it is just so much more real because you can clearly picture the place and the people. And literally overnight the place, hell the name, that had been traditionally be associated with fun and freedom is now whispered because it is now associated with pain, fear, and death.
But the world moved on so you can’t be sensitive about it.
I admire those who have come back with strength because all I can remember is the fear. I smile around my community here that is so strong, but there is always a little pain behind it.
So I’m stuck somewhere between hopeful and terrified.
But who knows? Maybe one day time and circumstance will allow me to smile without pain again.
