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I've been trying hard to cut the strings that were attaching me to my parents. Trying to break away, to forgive and forget. "Here and now" is a big stand that I'm trying to make – this time consciously and conscientiously. I am aware and awake, knowing, what I need to do by name. The name is freedom and with freedom there are responsibilities that I've been trying to adopt. I can remember it being late on a weeknight writing in my blue journal and as I wrote to myself about responsibility and how mad I was about how I paid no attention to the little time I had and how much of it I missed, my digital clock / lamp would stare at my pen with late hours. It would look upon me with outstretched neck like it was interrogating my words. On its lap would be a badge of red stenciled numbers that proved its authority by its coordinated synchronicity and responsibility, acting as though it could change night to day. As though it could change me from awake to irritable to tired to irritable into the darkness – proving the coordinated synchronized changes. And here I am a year later glancing at the same clock / lamp but on a different bed in a different room with different acquaintances covering my fresh words with the same old shadow.
It stinks, these fresh words… but goddammit! I'm writing again! It's journal time ladies and gentlemen! Maybe I can get the guts up to write these letters now. Why are "guts" synonymous with responsibility? It took guts to do what I wanted to do and what I felt right to do – and when I got the guts to do something, I met violent opposition and scorn. Hmmm…