Laurel Dunaway
Journal Entry
It was after two in the morning when I woke James to tell him I’d gotten the call. Dad was not well. His breathing was labored. He was asking for me. I had to go.
Most of this, of course, was a lie.
Or rather, what I like to call a projection of the future.
Some people stand by and wait for life to happen to them. Then there are people like me, who refuse to accept the status quo. It’s possible to create your reality, and I was well on my way to do just that.
As I stood at Dad’s bedside, I whispered my goodbyes. I told him that it was time for him to go. That it was okay. That it was time for the both of us. Then I held the pillow over his face and leaned all of me into it. As far as deaths go, it would be quick and painless. How much more can a person as
