|
new * archive * random * profile * notes * * diaryland |
nohow on27 March 2002 - 15:43 I have been away from home for three years. I have always had a charmed life, meeting interesting and wonderful people at every turn. I believe there is goodness in me. I feel like a treasure sometimes that only I have discovered. And maybe someday someone else will. The images that have the heaviest symbolism for me are found in a book I read as a child: The Hounds of the Morrigan by Pat O'Shea. This book took her ten years to write. I cried every day for a year. One of the kindest people I've known died in a plane crash winter solstice 1997. Events like that never become less horrible; life just fills in all around them, surrounding them again again with soft things, with beautiful things, with things that are sad but not so jarring, until you can go on. Sometimes it's a long time before you go on, but you do, because there's nothing else to do. My therapist is the nicest person. I wish I could hug her and do nice things for her. She has changed my life. She has held my hand when I was facing the scariest things in my life so far. Right now I have a crush on Samuel Beckett. |