Tears, tears, so many tears

I have hated myself for so many years, but no more self-hatred, praise God. I sit here now with tears running down my face, I cannot stop them and why, why? What is the reason? I never know for sure, I only know healing does follow at one point or another.

Is there hatred in my heart for Charles Jackson, anger yes, but hatred? Hopefully not.

I am not acquainted with hatred at least not that I am aware of. Roderick has sorely tempted me in many ways and circumstances.

I really did hate him when learning after inviting her to drive his (biggest honda sold at the time, 750) Honda with him sitting behind her. When at 70 miles per hour he put his hands on her breast, She, braveheart immediately let go of the handlebars and RODERICK had to act fast to keep them from wrecking. Had I known what he had done I would have shot him dead if I had to break his gun case to get his gun to do it. Not a good thing, but don’t violate my baby!

So, I do know hatred. Thank God I was never in the position of killing someone.

A line in a novel of authors, one Fern Michaels, a simple little line, “I hated my dad for giving my tree to the White House. Such a simple little line. It has usually been a line about a child either being treated well or with love for all of those many years of tears, so many tears I wondered why my face did not sag off my skull with sogginess or maybe turn to leather tough as a horses rump.

Michaels up and we must be off on our home to Las Vegas, Oh yes. I have been so happy with Michael in my life I cannot even remember doing one of there crying jags for many years.

Patricia

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