People, if they will it, can make a fresh start. They can turn their lives around. Hadn't i done so once when i was abandoned by the very person that should protected me? There were so many obstacles, so much sadness..so much tears....And yet i was free! I owed no one. I had wronged no man. Yes, i was free! I can go anywwhere, repeating the words and surprising myself.
Last night i went to bed without fear. It was as if some miraculous transformation had taken place. As if i had drunk some magic potion....... And for the first time in a long while, i fell into comforting, easy sleep.
Last night i went to bed without fear. It was as if some miraculous transformation had taken place. As if i had drunk some magic potion....... And for the first time in a long while, i fell into comforting, easy sleep.
If others had their fate i also had mine, i suppose.
Why did i know so little? Why do i know so little now? Jayn, Jayn, if i called to you now, my ownself calling to my ownself, would you hear me? And if you hear me, would you heed me?
I dont even know why i'm writing this.
I must admit there are 'memories' in my head that are curious even to me. I would not like to have to say this to even myself. Memory, i must suppose, if it is neglected becomes like a box room, or a lumber room in an old house, the contents jumbled about, maybe not only from neglect but also from too much haphazard searching in them, and things to boot thrown in that don't belong there. I certainly suspect - well, i don't know what i certainty suspect. It makes me a little dizzy to contemplate the possibility that everything i remember may not be - may not be real. There was so much turmoil at that time that - that what? I took refuge in other impossible histories, in dreams, in fantasies?
Why did i know so little? Why do i know so little now? Jayn, Jayn, if i called to you now, my ownself calling to my ownself, would you hear me? And if you hear me, would you heed me?
I dont even know why i'm writing this.
I must admit there are 'memories' in my head that are curious even to me. I would not like to have to say this to even myself. Memory, i must suppose, if it is neglected becomes like a box room, or a lumber room in an old house, the contents jumbled about, maybe not only from neglect but also from too much haphazard searching in them, and things to boot thrown in that don't belong there. I certainly suspect - well, i don't know what i certainty suspect. It makes me a little dizzy to contemplate the possibility that everything i remember may not be - may not be real. There was so much turmoil at that time that - that what? I took refuge in other impossible histories, in dreams, in fantasies?
I dont know.
My lifes - has been doomed from the beginning.
But if i put my faith in certain memories, perhaps they will serve as stepping stones, and i will cross the torrent of 'times past', without being plunged entirely into it.
They say the old at least have their memories. I am not so sure this is always a good thing. I am trying to be faithful to what is in my head. I hope it is trying also to be as faithful to me.
What the hell im rantings about?
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