January 27th, 2001

anxious

The Day My Cinnamon Doll Died

In thinking about the toys of my childhood, I felt I should write about Cinnamon. This is not a happy memory so be warned.

I had this doll named Cinnamon. She was very similar to Crissy. You pulled her hair out by pushing her belly button in. To make it shorter again you were to turn a knob in her back. A year or so I asked my friend Chuck who lives in Ny city where any toy from the past can usually be found to be on the lookout. He found me two of them. They sit in my living room to give my inner child back in a sense her Cinnamon doll.


It is a fuzzy memory. When I was maybe six and my sister was nine, my Mom must have lost her temper while she and my sister were arguing. I vaguely remember watching my Mom take my doll and hitting my sister over her back so hard the doll's head fell off. I remember at the time I just was sad I never got bought another Cinnamon. Note:this was such a long time ago and my mom hasn't been abusive in a really long time. Having this doll back, even if it isn't my old one. made my inner child happy. Its almost as if I can look at it and pretend what I saw happen to her never did.
  • Current Music
    Rufus Wainwright - In My Arms
Dragon Whelp, Perplexed

(no subject)

Every day I wake up and I think
I haven't phone to my father
how many days will be necessary
for the sticky feeling to evaporate under the grass
I am solo under heaven
the earth sustains me
how can another human being
claim anything from me

P.
Quiet Dawn

(no subject)

I'm an adult. I'm a child. I'm anything and everything that remains between. I get scared sometimes. We get scared sometimes, and sometimes those things don't seem to have reasons. But they do. Cos y'see, we were hurt some when we were younger. But we're going to be okay.

I saw this journal and felt I needed to be here. Greetings from me, and from the inner children. Wherever they may be at the moment...