A Struggle to Feel Accepted


Sometimes it feels like life is an endless road of wanting to be accepted. After your family it begins when you comprehend the concept of friendship and with it the pain and harsh reality that not everyone has the same amount of friends in the world. For some who find it hard to form bonds on this planet, this realization comes much quicker than for others. I think regardless of how popular we are there are times at night, when we are alone, that we feel an alienation from everyone else in the world. This includes the ones we love, no matter how strong those bonds might be, for we are human and have those moments. With the severing of the umbilical cord comes a very real release into a world that will often times distrust or hate us. And so we spend the rest of our lives searching for another connection back to what we had at birth, a struggle to feel accepted.

Why do people love the Harry Potter series so much? What could you possibly hate about a story of an orphan child that lives the life of an underdog and goes on to be the hero? His very struggles did not even have to mirror our own for us to accept his life as an image of “struggle” itself, an image we all deal with at some point in our lives. It reminds me of my own obstacles in trying to fit in through life. That feeling of struggle came to a stop on January 3rd, 2013 when I began my blog HarsH ReaLiTy on WordPress.com. It has been an eye opening experience and a period of personal growth to say the least. I have found I can express my opinions without feeling bridled by contempt or disdain and at the same time people can throw back their controversy literally right in my face, since I read their comments daily on a computer screen. This has provided, interestingly enough, an opportunity for this stubborn Korean to open himself to new ideas. I have even evolved some of my own values and outlooks on life, or at the very least provided the seeds for future thought on the topics.

It is amazing to me that I write daily to an audience, but in my daily life I am just another figure. Another number, a body in a chair. My current manager, who is an awesome person make no mistake, barely sees me because I work the graveyard shift. Yes, like a ghost I come in the backdoor of the building, past the working janitors and tired, oblivious late-night workers and I come watch servers to make sure they don’t go red. The only thing that keeps me from going insane is the sound of my keyboard floating into the empty office air, it is music to my ears and provides a promise of something more. Call it what you will but I earnestly seek whatever it is that inspires that feeling inside of me to press on when most would sit back and bask in accomplishment. You are allowed to feel satisfied in life, but too much satisfaction quickly becomes the recipe for a stagnant nature.

My blog has become an outlet for me. At first I created it as an online journal, but quickly it became my fingerprint on the literary world. There is a world out there of writers, readers, editors, publishers, curious minds, and growing minds wanting to keep the written arts alive and an audience can be easily found. We strive to keep this dying art form from going extent against the easily ingested television and accessible online media commonly found on at this moment in most of the world’s living rooms. I understand and I will confess to being a lover of the television myself, everyone needs their methods of falling asleep and mine just happens to be my mistress the TV. That was another motivator for me to create an inspiration that would force me to write on a regular basis, I see this often said on new blogs as their initial posts. The constant interaction and feedback I receive from my viewers has given me the backbone I needed to write this book now, one that might still never see the light of day. But I have to hope that at least by gracing this white screen they are given a life, even one as brief as the time it takes me to delete this word document.

I have often wondered if anyone on the staff at WordPress.com has been or is a manic depressive. There should never be an easily accessible delete button on anything as important as our blogs, and this is not a rib at WordPress who is gracious enough to offer a free platform for aspiring writers such as myself. I must confess that sometimes a depressive like me looks at that delete button with disgust. They make us jump through hoops of fire to cancel a credit card, but a precious blog I have spent countless hours on I can delete at the push of a couple buttons. I don’t stay on that page that long and I hope that the demons from my past don’t come back to force me to ever press that button. It would be a mistake I know.

An outlet to the world and to those beyond our room. That is what blogging has provided for me and has allowed me to achieve right from my rather mundane life in Denver, Colorado. I do love my life, my family, and the relatively safe environment we live in is one less distraction that pulls me away from writing. As a father of a four and three year old, plus working forty hours a week graveyard shifts, I have to find the time to write when I can. This past year has been my first year of addiction to blogging, but it is not at a level I consider dangerous and the potential for success through it is enormous. This provides the needed leverage on the table when trying to convince my loving and understanding wife of the need for the time I a lot to my “passion.” She is an artist and walks the same road I do, but while carrying a paint brush, so she understands in her own way. Besides, she is my number one fan and understands that my family is my inspiration for success and they are also why I hope to create a working profession from writing and not just a continuation of a hobby. That is yet to be seen, but I see a full deck and the game has not been played yet.

When I started HarsH ReaLiTy under the pen name Opinionated Man I had no idea that it would grow to the size it has now. Sure I had a business model and an idea, but I must confess I have been successful at very few things in life. Always the type that thought he was smarter than the teacher, knew better than everyone else, it is amazing I even listen to comments from a second opinion when I consider how closed minded I have been my whole life. I would like to think I have been open to opinions, but in truth I am simply well read. Reading opinions and even learning about other ideals does not necessarily constitute a growth in personal morals. We can read anything with a closed mind and it is just words. The interaction found through blogging, however, has changed the face of words and we are unhindered by a character limitation restraint. We know that the people speaking to us are real people, well at least the ones not categorized as spam by the people at AKISMET, and normally the views being expressed back are heart felt. This has at least been the experience thus far on my website and I hope it continues on.

As the number of people and countries grew that were regularly viewing my posts, I began to evolve the way I viewed the potential for the platform I was writing on. This was not just a few “wannabe” writers and struggling authors pandering out their materiel for free in hopes of book deals, what I found were real people that had real issues and lives that they were relating at real-time speed for the viewing pleasure of whoever cared. I think the concept of blogging is growing even today and is still gaining popularity and the result is that it is easy to connect with individuals from across the planet. I recently ran a project on my blog called “Project O” in which I featured articles that consisted of templates participants filled out and submitted to me by email. One hundred and twenty-eight bloggers from around the world took part in the project and the feedback and conversation that came from it was invaluable not only to my own personal growth in knowledge about the world and the people in it, but I think it also helped to correct some stereotypes we have when we consider other people as so different from ourselves.

The project also offered the opportunity for the creation of new connections and that is what the “social” in social media is all about. If writers wanted to simply write we would do so on a word document or journal, we blog our writing to get it out there to an audience so we can get feedback and free critiques and we use that newfound knowledge to improve our writing. That would be my goal at least, but added to that is the new community feeling that is received when you encounter others that are also trying to complete the same journey you are. I have dreamed of becoming a published author since I read my first fantasy book and thought to myself “I could have wrote that.” It is only now, after writing on a daily basis and receiving positive feedback that I think I have what it takes to put out at least one novel and see how it floats.

Inspiration is an unpredictable emotion because it can come at any moment. I find that it comes far more frequently when we surround ourselves with things that might contribute to that occurrence happening. That is why writers congregate in corners and artists socialize with other artists, we seek out people that understand and relate to us. HarsH ReaLity, yes I can be very Korean sometimes and that is how I choose to spell it, has become an almost forum like webpage of writers and people with many other talents that congregate to discuss topics of similar interest. Since I am pretty much a dabbler in any topic, my interest range from the obvious to the curious, I provide articles frequently that people find interesting. That accounts for the high number of views my website gets in comparison to perhaps a far more skilled writer in a specific genre that only garners viewers from that similar interest. I suppose this book will fall under a genre, we are forever labeled as human beings that cannot be helped, but at least my blog is still free of any such label. That is how I intended it.

I am not a very malleable person nor does my personality lend me to accept differing opinions very often or very well for that matter. I force myself to read CNN.com, even though I am a Republican, because CNN has better reporters than FOX News and I like to see what the other side thinks as well. I have frequently opened up topics on my website that have caused open debate, even some heated discussion and argument. Luckily the members of my more frequent audience show a lot of restraint, but it can be shaky ground when you are dealing with human emotion and ideals. People tend to fire first and ask questions later and that is why I have been rather surprised at how open the bloggers have been when interacting with one another. There has even been a cordial nature between nationalities I did not think really liked each other, to put it bluntly, put Project O showed me that not all individuals within a nation think alike. A concept that should be easy for an American to understand, but is surprisingly difficult for many to realize when we consider nationalities across the oceans. We like to believe stereotype because often times stereotypes are accurate or based on fact and are also the only things being fed to society through the media.

From small to large can basically sum up the concept of the expansion of my mind and views on the world through my personal growth found from my blogging experience. This is not to say that I am some reformed man that has fully changed the ways in which he lives or observes the world, no on the contrary it actually has reinforced some of the views I have conceived but it has also introduced me to some new opinions which I respect and love to hear about. That is the beauty of creating a website that has a “forum like atmosphere” and welcomes the sharing of openly expressed opinion. I appreciate allowing people to say what they want even if it is against the grain and I highly encourage anyone that has the backbone to stand up for their own ideals. That is what is great about blogging and the uncensored content that is floating out on the internet. While some of it might be obscene, others might make you want to scream, yell or curse, but what you really have is a freedom of expression. That is a freedom people will not give up lightly and Project O clearly showed the value that everyone in the world has placed in having an opinion and further being able to express that opinion.

We hate to be labeled and yet we gladly place these labels on people to make them easier to categorize. For instance, it might be assumed about me that since I am Korean, have a successful blog, consistently post a lot, and have a family as well that I must not have any other life. People also assume I am technically savvy, which actually if you ask my brother in law I am not very technical at all. Oh sure I know the basics about many things, which places me at about average in today’s computerized world, but I just bought my first iPhone this October and I will admit it makes me feel dumb. I think there are really only a few things that make me a successful blogger. I type between 85 – 100 wpm, I process information quickly (this has been widely debated), I speed read, and I enjoy the interaction only found through an online setting and creating an atmosphere and writing in a way that welcomes conversation. That is the goal of any blog I think is to seek out comments and the fastest way to shut down conversation is to start labeling people.

I have used my blog as a window into parts of my life, but as one blogger mentioned it is very hard to pry out very many “exact” details about me. That is of course on purpose, as the safety of my family is first in my mind, but I have taken the opportunity on my blog to write some on my adoption and my feelings towards my birth mom and the sister I have not met since we were separated as children. The internet has actually provided a very nice avenue for therapy for me through allowing me to express my feelings about the past openly and accepting the unchecked criticism or encouragement sent back my way. It has been an interesting experience connecting with both adoptees and parents with adopted children and I think we can all agree that each story is different. There can be similarities, but it does an injustice to the lives of those individuals when people try to label and categorize things too much.

My adoption story received a lot of views and was a create way for me to finally pour out how I saw and felt during the course of those events in my life. It was a trying period and no one can really say they understand what I went through because there was only one Korean kid walking in those shoes. I am thankful for such support during those times, my family and mother in particular helped me to see there are reasons for living even in the darkest of hours. It is just very hard to know that when you are living those moments. I was adopted when I was 3 years old, left on the street with my sister by our mother in front of a police station in Busan, South Korea. I did not find out about the part of the story involving my sister and birth mother till I was eighteen years old and was on a trip to Korea with a group of adoptees that were also adopted through Holt International. It took me 9 years and one suicide attempt to get over it all and I can’t actually say I honestly have moved fully forward. Do you ever? I may still write more on my adoption other than the few articles I wrote on it. It would make a good novel, but sometimes you just don’t feel like reopening a door over and over.

I think in many ways blogs are windows into our hearts. We allow people to see our feelings, emotions, and sometimes our personal stories because we feel the need to share without actually physically sharing. We press that publish button and that post is sent out into the web and we half fear, half hope that someone will read it and care enough to respond. That the response back will somehow matter. That is what I hope when I publish any article on my blog and I also seek out other bloggers that feel the same way. Simply because we are unsocial in the real world, and I really wouldn’t fully label myself as unsociable but more on that later, doesn’t mean we cannot still find connections that broaden our world. Who has the time to listen to a whole conversation anymore when instead we can have thousands of conversations at once and more importantly the control to interact with that conversation at our own convience. The power of writing on a website like WordPress is the ability to control your own speed, no one should say you have to post every hour or even every day, what readers look for is content with meaning.

I also find I like to pick on political issues even though I know a very large number of my readers are not of similar political party or mind on many “hot topics” in current news. I still speak strongly on my stance on these issues whenever I feel like and that is something I will never change. Surprisingly this has actually caused many to support me in my stance of at least sharing and standing by my opinions, even if they strongly disagree with them and it causes them occasional flashes of anger. These topics have ranged from abortion, Korean’s having eye surgery, the Russian Orthodox stance on homosexuality, opinion and the importance of having the right to an opinion, and any current news topic that floats my fancy. I also include frequent posts of what I like to refer to as poetry, but I believe might be accessed by a professional as utter garbage. I once submitted my poetry through a computerized website that grades them and it almost shutdown from computerized laughter at how low my score was. I didn’t even know computers had such a sense of humor.

I have labeled people my whole life and even harbored a racist view or two. It is a common practice these days to take on a shocked look of appall at the word racism and anyone that even admits to ever having had a racist thought in their life. Luckily I am not planning on running for any political office and I can safely assume I cannot run for President of the United States of America since I was born in Korea. That leaves me liberated to at least express my opinions and views with those that will listen and I have found an audience that actually accepted my admission of past views and appreciated my progression. Dare I even admit I have found people that have walked a similar path? That is encouraging to me, a person who often thinks not many others consider subjects in a radically different way. To find those that consider it ok to admit that you have had a racist or improper thought and that the world will not forever label you as a hooded demon or extremist is a good thing in a current society that loves to ostracize those that dare to speak against the current “trending view” even if that view is still far in the minority of what everyone feels. The irony of this is actually remarkably bottomless, but it takes a certain type of cynical humor to appreciate it.

The daily interaction I have had with people from countries I have never visited is remarkable because it has broadened my mind and understanding of the different cultures out there. I am forced to recognize preconceived notions as ignorant and the resulting strengthening in character can only serve me in the future. I actually had a feeling the other day that even though I watch and read the news far less than I did, I still feel more connected to the world the individuals within it. I of course do not converse with every human on the planet, but I am speaking to far more people on a regular basis than I ever have in my life. That definitely expands your mind especially when you are not privy to topics that are perhaps not widely known about or discussed internationally. Someone once asked me why should we care so much, “why do you care so much?” I replied that the day we stop caring about a story, about a person, is the day that something dies. That is a sad thing to me.

Blogging has opened my eyes to the fact that it is a good thing for us to have a social fingerprint to be known by and perhaps even to be followed by. It allows me a little comfort to know that there are people that care if I am still alive and kicking, even if those people have never met me in their lives. I once blogged about a Saudi Blogger who received a grossly unjust sentence for simply creating a blog and forum to openly talk about religion. One commenter asked me what good it did to simply write about someone and I responded that by writing about someone we spread notice of their existence and in this case their trials or tribulations. I went on to say that I hope if I were in a similar situation that my readers and friends would also take to social media and campaign for my cause. People easily forget that we have a voice and that voice is as powerful as the engine you put behind it. I went from speaking to three hundred followers to twenty-five thousand in ten months and it is all due to one thing. I cared to get my voice out there.

[END]

Note: I stopped writing this. It won’t be completed.

If I could Paint the Sun


Dear You,

“She says she wants to shine a light into the darkness,” but thinks a blog will not accomplish the deed. Does she not realize that with every eye that looks upon her words, a heart might possibly be softened? A mind might be altered slightly? The power to share, to care, and to allow ourselves to affect others… “affect” because we are indeed changing them. It is a scary thought for some and this is not some super power we speak of. It is the power to care and that is a very human quality. That is a character trait that should never be overlooked and instead should be embraced.

A borderless world is social media. This land that we stand in now, these people of all colors and no color at all, their personalities created on fonts called Calibri and Times New Roman. And yet we know them as we do a character from a story we love to reread in the night. These connections are real, as much as some may scoff at silly chains of necessary friendship. These men adorn themselves with lofty titles of “Opinionated Man.” Ignore the wind, it is only the wind from America.

If you want to paint then paint. But if you want to change the world of others then paint the sun. Alter not only their perception, but their reality as well. Do this with pen, brush, keyboard, or word but do it because you do have the power. You have the power to care.

-Opinionated Man

Bullying – Understanding a Killer


I am not a therapist or a psychologist, but I did get bullied for most of my life during grade school and through high school. It is a tough thing to be Asian and live in the South, even tougher still to grow up in Memphis and to truly understand what it is like to be a minority. I am sure others can relate with different names of cities and different skin colors. It isn’t easy and we are plagued by thoughts that might seem drastic and evil at times. Are we afraid of admitting our thoughts or is it simply taboo to speak about subjects that release inner demons the public feel should be left asleep.

I laugh when I watch the news reporters and their comments on bullying. “I am not sure what is going on in America, this growing society of bullying.” Then you have the pretty reporter, who was most likely a cheerleader and very popular (yes I just generalized) who will say “I just feel sorry those kids felt so alone.” Sure you do. That is why you ignored half the lunch room, you know the “corners” the cool kids didn’t go near. Yes, I am sure you NOW are very concerned about such topics because it is your job.

I was not a total outcast at my schools, nor was I part of the coolest group either. You had to be black to be part of that group, which is understandable. From what I gather in Korean culture it is exactly the same way and maybe even meaner to an outsider. So I don’t begrudge kids for being kids. That doesn’t mean I didn’t hate a lot of them. There is a difference between encountering racism a few times (or once in your whole entire life) or bullying on “the occasion” and receiving it every day. School, random parking lot, anywhere I went in the 1990s I normally had something said. I would ignore it. I was a kid, I had white parents that didn’t really get “the struggle” and that is ok. I don’t hold that against them, how could they? They were white and in the United States that is a +1 mark for you regardless of how low you are on the ladder. I challenge anyone to say otherwise and that stands to this day.

That is cool, this isn’t a post about race actually. I can understand why kids that get bullied go on shooting sprees. The media is so stupid. I will admit the access to weapons is part of it. This does not change the fact that I am a strong supporter of guns rights and by the way the federal government is actively trying to disarm veterans right now. They are claiming they are not sound of mind, because of the wars we are being SENT TO, and now they want to remove their right to bear arms. A right EVERY citizen in America should have. Why? Read the news what do you see? You see murder, war, terrorism, random shootings, revolution, political struggles, and it is everywhere in every country. Fear is what we see, but we also see a world growing more desperate. Desperate enough to kill.

I am sure life for women is very different in regards to the social games we play. I know they can be cruel and mean as shit, I saw my sister go through it. But I don’t know if women are as physically violent as men. On the majority I would say you are not. I would even venture to say that this is why we see more shootings by males. In this case it serves my purpose because I am male and I will show you what that mind can seem like.

I remember well getting bullied in school. Mine wasn’t even that bad, it was almost done on principle and had a chain reaction affect. One person would say a minor racial slur, they normally weren’t horrible, and a guy down the hall would hear it and would also say something. Normally high school hallways were gauntlets for these types of verbal abuse. It wasn’t physical normally, although I do recall often being bumped “by accident.” But I also had friends and generally stayed in the back. My friends were all white and I also had some black friends growing up and to this day. That isn’t relevant really to this, because like I said many of you I am sure went through some form of bullying just with different racial characters in the picture. It is a rough life and I understand and sympathize with you for it.

I wrote a post recently in which I showed a visualization for an internal struggle after murder. Because that is what killing is, you are murdering someone and taking away their right to live. A long time reader asked me if I was being serious about the write and I responded that yes it was a truthful post. I have thought of killing before and it isn’t necessarily something I am proud of. It also isn’t something I am ashamed of nor feel any need to hide. When I was being bullied I was alone in it in that my friends were white and didn’t understand why “I was so bothered by things people were “just” saying.” Yea, they didn’t get that it wears on you. Psychologically it tears at your mental stability after years of it. Let me paint a picture for you of a male childhood ladies. This is only one example, but let us see if any males agree with it.

A boy gets bullied in 6th grade. He has endured words and insults throughout his childhood, so in the 6th grade he punches a kid and gets in a fight. The bullying stops for a month and the kid feels like maybe Chuck Norris was right. Maybe taking action brings a reaction. The next year the bullying starts again. Or we could even change it, the kid is forced to move to a new city and suddenly he isn’t as confident as he was. There is always a “bigger” kid on the playground and unfortunately it never seems to be you. Damn that sucks huh?

So you envision beating those kids up. That is how it starts of course. Anyone that was “bullied” in life and I mean truly set upon that says they never thought about beating that person up or punching them is a fucking liar. Well those fantasies don’t satisfy the appetite for long. It becomes a choice of paths. Fortunately for me I grew up with a father that is a priest and a doctor so there were no weapons in our house. I didn’t get a chance to shoot up a school. This is where I say easy access is a part of it, I will admit that. And I also admit no one goes hunting with an M-16 assault rifle with an AK47, just in case the M-16 jams. They normally do. I am 32 years old, a father of two children, and a husband who understands what these kids are going through, even at my age. Because I still have the memories that are sometimes dreams, but are always memories. I hope anyone that is being bullied can find some type of support or can realize that once you move things can change. But I won’t sit here and gasp in shock and say “how did little Billy do that?” Because little Billy got fed up with taking shit and decided hell didn’t sound so bad.

-Opinionated Man

Part 2 My Feminist Vow – By: Opinionated Man


Part 1 can be found here - http://aopinionatedman.com/2014/03/10/my-feminist-vow-by-opinionated-man/

I vow to never place Mrs. in front of my name. Instead I will hold strong and place “single” (forever…) there instead!

I vow to not do the dishes and clean the kitchen anymore… even though I currently don’t do those things. It is the principle of rejecting them though right?

I vow to aggressively attack other women that are not as feminine as me. If you aren’t with us you are against us!

I vow to keep track of every female celebrity to ensure they are holding up “the banner.” You girls better be waving that thing with pride or else you are obviously a black mark on womanhood. Drop your own agendas, career goals, and instead join the feminist bandwagon! We are accepting members against their will.

I vow to never allow a man to save me in a dangerous situation. If that means I have to wrestle an alligator, well equality has its price! I need some new alligator skin heels anyways… maybe a matching purse?

I vow that when I reach Heaven I will ask God why in the world he created Adam first. Bad move!

I vow to become a geneticist so that we can eventually remove the need for penises. They are evil, ugly, and they move by themselves sometimes!

-Opinionated Man

The Lost Journals: Chapter One – Pg. 7


Santa Monica, CA

Linda Borra Conaughey

2/7/1995 – Journal Entry One

My only comfort is the companionship of my sorrow. It has been five years since he passed and also five years since I have painted. My hands ache for the feel of a brush, even as my soul rejects the comfort that may come from it. A single canvas, still pure white, sits in the sunroom waiting for my attention. I have left it there since the night I received the phone call of his passing. The moment he died the will to paint died as well.

I see images that beg to be captured all around me. We artists see still images, even as the pace of society moves around us. Sometimes it feels as if we are an island in a sea of chaos. We strive to find that one thing worth seeing each day and on those days we do not find our hart of pursuit we die just a little more that evening. Passionate of heart, we cannot keep that same passion from affecting our lives. And thus when tragedy comes we embrace that tragic sense with a foolish bravery that we do not recognize till after the damage is done. Here I sit damaged.

My counselor tells me that to get over the pain I should try to write in this journal that she gave me. I wanted to throw the notebook in her face and scream “I am an artist… not a writer!” But who am I really mad at? As I pen these words I feel my heart tremble just slightly… as if awakened by the tease of a thought. What is it that moves me now?

My pastels sit unused next to the dull acrylics. They sit lifeless having lost any desire they had due to neglect. As I neglect my art, I also neglect my soul. But what color would my painting become when mixed with my tears…

Trinity

The Lost Journals: Chapter One – Pg. 6


St. Jude Hospital

Memphis, TN

1/7/2001 – Journal Entry One

My name is Sarah Clark and I am from Nashville, TN. Lately it has felt like I am from Memphis though… well not really from the city itself. I live in St. Jude Hospital. My parents and my sister Julie won’t say why I am here, they think I am too young to understand things still. I am almost fourteen and I feel like I am growing older each day. Well I know I am growing older, that is a silly statement, but I think I am learning things that I shouldn’t be at this age. It doesn’t take long to realize what a place is for… when you have been living there for three weeks. I know too much now.

My mother gave me this diary when I was twelve. I remember throwing it in a drawer and muttering something like “diaries were so last century mom.” I am glad I didn’t throw it away in some childish spurt of anger that us kids are so prone to. We commit these acts without thought of future consequence because what is the future to the young? It is simply another day away… But not when you are dying. Not when you suddenly know that each day is precious. The young shouldn’t understand this and normally I would be speaking of myself… but I am not. Another patient here Adam is only ten and still there are younger patients in my wing.

The laughter that fills these halls daily is still a bit haunting to me. I am learning that it is like laughing in the face of death and it strengthens you simply by doing it. It makes you appreciate the moment. The moments are precious lately. I wish my father would come around more, he has withdrawn a lot since we arrived. My sister tells me that he spends a lot of time alone in his hotel room. The times that he comes by are glossed over by small talk and attempts at jokes that only bring pain because they are connected to some memory of the past that we share. It seems to remind us that we will soon only have memories. Him on this world and me wherever I shall go. His eyes appear as glass from the constant film of tears that he holds back in my presence. I can see the reflection of his fears and my own in his eyes. I don’t know who I am more scared for, him or me.

I find this diary serves as a nice release. It can get crowded in this wing… sadly. I think I will continue to write if only for the pleasure of it.

Sarah Clark

***

 

Page 6 OM 01/06/2014