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Wednesday, Sept. 10, 2008
10:25 p.m.
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The Ancients ] >>

Watched his fuzzy head bob over the edge of my bed as he spoke. Up and down, like a muppet. Made him sit on the floor, because I am a child and when I get angry I need space. My bed; the most and least sacred thing I have.

"I don't want to be our parents," he said while crawling back in.
"We won't," I said. "We're better. We'll learn." But I was unconvinced.

Isn't that what everyone says? I'll never be like them, never be like that, I'll be fair and just and kind and everything my parents weren't. And then twenty years later you're looking at a photograph in the mirror when you wake up.

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