My Start

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Posted by Lou on January 01, 2001 at 16:12:15:

I am sorry if I have come to the wrong place. I did a few searches and this is what I have found. I have recently tried to buy a laptop so that I could have a private place to come and write - to get this out of my head - this, I mean everything, there is no this, no one certain thing. I do not by any means claim a talent and certainly am not a writer. Last night I had this bothered me like any other that I have, I just wanted to start this year out right and get it is nothing special....I was in a large group of people, all of the people, it seemed, that had touched my life. It was not really a Christmas party but there were gifts. I saw the a large shelf of small children's books meant to be gifts for all the kids there and I wondered why no one had bothered to wrap them up. I was in a line of somewhat scattered people that were progressing slowly up a hill. As I approached the incline I suddenly felt so burden with sadness that I could not walk upright. I was so bent, and so sad that I found it very difficult to walk. There were people that I had helped in the past, people I had worked so hard for and they smiled at me as I passed yet no one seemed to notice how bent I was so terribly sad. I felt this so strongly that I could feel my self-crying in my sleep. I saw people that I had know in 2000 and that had died, there are five people, first my brother in law, then my father, and so on….I thought that I was sad because I missed them for dying. When I woke up I was so drained and so sad. Later the same day, I spoke to my sister, we hardly ever speak. We had a long talk or I listened to her talk badly about everyone we had in common and then she told me that my dad had beat my mother for several years, that he beat her even just before he died in February 2000, she told me that my mother had told her this recently. Since he died my mother has had a terrible time adjusting to a single life after thirty-three years with a very dominating person. I am so sad to hear this. I mean he beat us but we got to move out…we got to move out and try and piece it all back together. I remember at his funeral we all we trying so hard to cry. For me I cried for my mother, because she was hurting. We all stood together around his body and we all looked at him. I touch him and realized that he was frozen; they had to keep him that way. When I touched him he got goose bumps all over his skin. That was so weird to me. I have so many things to write, so many things to say. When ever that laptop gets here I will write and write and write and then delete it all. I keep thinking if I can just write I will get all this out and I can be normal. I want to be not afraid to be happy. I want to not be afraid to admit that I am enjoying something or to not be afraid that if I laugh to much out load something terrible will happen. I want to just sit and cry and get all this stuff that I cannot help but hold in. I think about those poor children in the countries of war, they live everyday with hunger and bombs and terrible loss….and here I want to cry because of whatever damages I accepted as I grew up. I keep thinking that maybe if I just cry and find a way to release all these things that I can be ok….then I thin of the horrors of the world and I am scared. Yet everyday I go to work, I smile, I say I am fine. I just really want to be fine.

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