Really I don't care if anything of mine sinks or swims. This is how much I am lacking in maternal drives. I feel as if I'm trying to press myself to care and yet I do not. I might have got this harsh streak from my father -- a natural tendency to disown in his case; in mine, to emotionally detach and narrow my focus. I would like to cut loose from all my projects -- and yet I am bound to them by a common history. What strikes the heart with turmoil is my strong need for detachment. I don't want parts of me, that are "chips off the old block" flying around -- unless they're me. There's so much sense in keeping all of one's aspects together.
I feel the need to break memories of all blood ties, blinding the eyes with blood and horror.
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