"Please, Dad. For Me."

I don't quite know what to say here anymore, Ms J. I feel that I cannot speak my true heart. And that's precisely what I've done here these past four years or so. I've documented my Life - the good times and bad - and shared my most intimate feelings about it. I've found support here from various readers at various times, and I've also found criticisms. Some were helpful. Some were just plain hurtful. But lately, I've been feeling rather muzzled. And that's not a good thing, Ms Journal. That seems to defeat the entire purpose of this blog. I began to write here long ago through my desire to share my successes and failures with an anonymous audience. I never imagined it might be read by anyone about whom I wrote. Was it myopic? Probably. But I have no regrets. I make no apologies. I spoke the Truth, my Truth, the way I saw it.

I spent a day with Meagan recently. We visited a Wal-Mart store in a town near her home. We bought a couple of t-shirts and a jacket. She found an aquarium as well, and we bought some fish and accessories for it. I hadn't gotten her much for Christmas. It had been months since I last saw her, and Lord, how I missed her. We talked about lots of things and eventually the conversation came round to this blog.

"Dad," she said. "Promise me something. Promise me you won't write about Mum anymore. Ever. She freaked out the last time. She freaks out and calls you names and I try to defend you and then me and Mum start fighting, and ... Well, it's not good. I love you both. It puts me in the middle somehow and it feels pretty crappy. So promise me you won't write about her anymore. Please, Dad. For me."

I really don't know why she finds my Life so interesting, Ms J. I don't know why she reads this blog. But she does and I'm powerless to stop her. That's a fact. I bother myself that she knows so much about me. I wish ...

Well, anyway ...

That's about it for today, I guess. I'll need some time to process it all, Ms J. I'll need a few days or more to decide how to respond now that I know who reads these words. Do I continue to share my heart here or simply grind out bland pap void of any real emotion? Does it matter? Should it matter? Do I care? Should I?

I will keep my promise to my daughter. I will do it. For her.

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