Inner Workings of a Conscious Mind

            As I reflected on my life, working through my process and attempting to philosophize my present, I pulled my journal to the front page to see how far I'd come. I was damaged, deeply, and now more than ever I want so badly to be so unapologetically, ruthlessly and honestly me. Part of this archive project is working through who I was, who I am, and who I want to be. 

God I was an angsty 15-year-old.

30th of June, 2014

I received this journal a long time ago from my grandmother. I've always been the conservative type when it came to talking about my feelings and emotions. I'd much rather bottle things up in hopes I forget. Seems like things just continue to remind me they're alive and fresh in my memories. She gave me this leather-bound book with the intention it would somehow give me a sense of rest. I've been skeptical of it, leaving it on my shelf and occasionally using it for sparks of thought or music. And now that I am utilizing this book I regret not doing it sooner. Maybe I'll come back to it someday and smile in a thankful way.

You ever had a dream you wish never ended? I had one last night, I rarely dream of my father but when I do…  I  savor every moment. Last night I had a dream of him, just him and me. I dreamed he smiled as we saw each other and hugged me like he had never done before. An affectionate sort of, “I missed you,” hug.  

I dreamed he held me close and tears ran down his face.

I just smiled, glad to be back in his warm embrace. 

I remember feeling the most joy I had ever felt in my life, somehow I realized it was a dream but wanted it never to end. I wish I was still there. I miss him so much it's almost unbearable. Sometimes I wonder how our relationship would have been if he wasn't so manipulated. No. My father would have been the best I could have ever asked for. I still remember exactly how he sounded the last time he spoke to me… “I love you son.” It Makes my eyes twinge to think of the times I chose not to see him when it was an option. The situation I was in made me hate him. Before he got sick I remember wanting him to die and I don't think I realized that it meant losing him forever.

 What I would do to hug my father once more. I'm always wondering, in everything I do, if you would be proud of me. I hope you would be. I made mistakes but I think my father understood better than anyone that we're only human and bound to make mistakes. Sometimes I look at bikers on the street or men that sort of look like him in a way, and I smile. I guess it comforts me to think that maybe he’s still around. I long for someone to love as much as I loved him. But I don't know if that crater in my heart can ever be filled. I gave up on Abrahams God a long time ago, but if you're up there, fill that gap that I can't. I'm not sure I can get through on my own, despite my pride for independence.


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