Copyright 2011 Tim Morrell
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Sunday November 11
Well, I guess I’m one of those people that keep a journal now. I can just imagine the Doogie Howser theme song in the background. Not a very manly thing to do, but I guess there’s no one that’s going to make fun of me for keeping a diary. In fact, that’s a large part of the reason I feel compelled to start writing things down. I really need someone to talk things through with, but I guess ‘talking’ things through with my inner self on paper is going to have to do.
Where to start? Probably my mom. She had me when she was 17; only god knows who my father was. She never said, but I honestly never asked. Our extended family wanted to ‘take care’ of the pregnancy. I’m pretty sure mom would have done it too if it wasn’t their wish. She was somewhat of a rebellious type. So anyways, she was 17 with a baby that she didn’t necessarily want, and her family disowned her. That was fine by her. I’ve never met the rest of her family.
Mother wasn’t what you might call a good parent. She was never mean to me, really she was never anything to me. I was always a pretty independent boring kid; I guess I just did what I needed to do. She always provided the things I needed, but as I grew up that was less and less.