Why? I don't know. It just was.
I remember when I was in second grade, I laid on the dining room floor and wrote out with pencil on sheets of white lined paper "I hate myself" over a hundred times.
Why do I remember this? I can recall this moment as clear as I can recall family vacations to Mexico and trips to Disney World.
Sometimes memories have a purpose. Now I just have to figure out why I remember this and how to turn it into something beautiful.
Beauty from ashes.
2 comments:
I'm so saddened to read this...especially since we attended the same school in 2nd grade. I'm sorry you had this experience, Jamie.
Very cool to read that you've been writing your life story. It's so interesting the things we vividly remember. I too believe we remember it for a reason even if we don't yet know what that reason is...
Post a Comment