January 7th, 2002

(no subject)

I've been going through my journal from the past year. I used to write less of my own thoughts and use the space instead to take notes from books & write down quotes. But the parts that are me are an anguished me. wallowing in my past. I'm really not at that place anymore. I guess that's why I quit going to al-anon. It was always like being in a room full of ghosts and they suck your ghost out to play.

the point is to not be that person anymore. THE PAST DOESN'T MATTER. The alcoholic that was in my life is dead now, and I burried his memory along with him. I'd like to keep it that way because it keeps me sane & functional.

to say the thing -
entertain the thought -
that I do not say
won't dare think
it's never left me
never been outside myself:

I have no feeling for you
I was glad when you died
relieved to have you
out of my life.

I am not your daughter.

I am a daughter of fear
and insecurity
and uncertainty.

I can't regret having
known you.
I would not have
begun the journey
to find what is beautiful
and true . . .

about living,
about Life.

I am through with you.
You are dead
and burried.

And I will go on . . .

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