Who am I?
Sometimes I wonder who you think I am.
Have the things I told you painted a picture in your mind?
Do you know the kind of person I am by the words I write?
I sometimes think about this in the dead of night…or the early morning light..
Who am I?
Sometimes I don’t even know.
This past week I finished reading journal 4. Last year I started the project of slowly going through all of my old childhood and early adulthood journals. It has been a healing process for me…to finally come to grips with my life…my demons..
My oldest daughter has been begging to read my journals for the past year now. I now am also tasked with the duty of reading my journals with the thought that someday they will belong to my children. I want them to have a certain image of me in their minds, even after I am dead.
Journal 4 was difficult. I was angry. I could feel the rage coursing through my words. I tore out half the pages of my journal, ripped them up, and threw them out (recycling). I crossed out some of the writings with a black pen. I never destroyed a part of my life’s writings before.
To tell you the truth, I didn’t recognize myself. It was like I was reading about another girl.
Maybe I don’t really want to know myself??
I just don’t want my kids to see my darkest days. I am describing a girl that is gone now..
I just started reading journal 5 which was written before journal 4. I will probably be sharing some stories with you…
But how will you know me if I don’t recognize the old me in me anymore??
Do you really want to know the real me anyway??
Or do you think of me as a character in a book with a twisted plot?