This day was a holiday. According to the journal entry, we didn’t do much and I felt it was a “taskless day”, lost without routine and something to keep us grounded.
Read on.
Love,
Mom
not just the hits
This day was a holiday. According to the journal entry, we didn’t do much and I felt it was a “taskless day”, lost without routine and something to keep us grounded.
Read on.
Love,
Mom
Finally pulled out my “history bin”. You know, that little box in which you keep some of your past locked up – the past you won’t let go of and you refuse your husband permission to throw it out. The box that sits in the back corner of your closet shelf or the bottom of your closet behind everything else. Mine is a plastic bin and it holds “journals” filled with drunken rants, reaches at poetry and stories that someday wished to be told. The following is an undated entry written circa 1997, since that’s when some of the other entries were written.
I am not wrong
I look around me and question the actions which provoke me
The actions which provoke my thoughts of rebellion and disgust
Disgust with the way they manipulate peoples lives, peoples thoughts, peoples feelings
Feelings which are not wrong when they are from the heart
Feelings which are turned around by those who do not like to be seen through
I respect those people
For what they are is a product of what they have been through
But I cease the vicious circle which they are a part of
I will not let myself be pulled into that circle which surrounds the souls of the innocent and pretends to be their protector and enslaves them to a truth they do not know
A truth which is not existent in the world of the few
Only in the world of the many
They are made to believe what is inside this prison and made to evangelize that truth
A truth which many cannot see through
Only the few surviving
But they are constantly threatened by the deceivers of the circle
A circle I will not be a link to
I will not let the chains bind my soul
I am not wrong
I will continue to look through those which surround me and try to imprison me in their hold
telling me their truth
Their truths which are my lies
I will not be made to live inside their world
My world is small and few live within it
But we are not blind
We are strong
We see through their walls
We see through their circle
I am not wrong
I am not right
I have respect for those people
For that is all they know
Some day something will change
But for now – I am not wrong
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