I often hate how I feel. I hate my anger, my pain, my sorrow, and my despair. Sometimes I hate the people who did this to my daughter. The rapists. The police. The ignorant and the indifferent.

It would be so easy to walk away. I promised her they would not get away with this.

The reminder of that promise is my memory of her, sitting in my car. Thanking me.


2016-10-21T21:43:17+00:00June 23rd, 2014|Categories: Zen|Comments Off on Feelings