This is not what you’re supposed to be reading right now. This is not something I spent a month NOT writing, and then two weeks writing and re-writing.
I certainly would like this to be it, it’s just not. I ended up with something far too long, giving far too much information, and yet, not nearly enough information at the same time. I feel it’s too important, it’s something I need to say, something that needs to be told. But, it’s too personal. I’m too attached to it.
And I don’t feel it’s good enough.
I worry it’s not respectful enough to the source. I worry that it’s not what it needs to be. I don’t know why it needs to be so important to me. It’s something that no longer has any effect on my life. It’s over. Most of my friends have forgotten it even happened at all. People who seemed so interested in learning managed to slip out of my life.
I can’t give it up. It’s still there, in the back of my head haunting me. Haunting me and my thoughts.
I made something that’s too much about me, and not enough about why what happened is important to me. I want something that’s not a day by day beat by beat diary entry, I want something more… more. My problem lies in my purposeful avoidance of the topic, out of respect for everyone involved, but also out of fear of going too dark. And also fear of going too light, and not respecting what happened.
I guess we wait and see what happens.