I didn’t finish that poem yet. Instead, I went on an adventure to pick my sister up from a Staples parking lot because the van got a flat tire. Dad says I should have had a word with the tow man, since he used to be in the British Army.
About that poem though…
I think I am afraid to finish it. I really mustn’t. But I think that every time I see myself doing this. I see it and tell myself I’ll stop, and then I can’t stand to see myself throw away something that I really worked on, and I end up finishing rather than destroying it.
I still know I shouldn’t keep it.
Have you ever seen something in yourself and felt horror?
I felt that way when my wolfish side pushed its way to the surface, and I feel it regarding this, too. I guess I’d never thought about it, but for all the times in our lives when we feel worthless and like nobody loves us or notices us, we may actually be very important to someone out there and never know it.
And I know all about how you’re supposed to tell people when they’re important to you. You’re supposed to make sure the people you love know that you love them. I can’t do that. I never was good at it. So all I can do is write things I don’t know if I mean, and shudder because it seems creepy that I am doing this and that I apparently can’t stop myself. And that is not something you should tell anyone.
And there’s this, too. You won’t get much from it, but thinking about that conversation still makes me irrationally angry. I’d forgotten it happened around Christmastime.
The Curse by Diary of Dreams
Why? To be honest, I don’t know. I think it may be because I liked the menace in the sound. I think a great number of these songs were established back in the end of last winter and through spring…but I suppose I was still feeling very violent at the time.