diary / by Edward Mullany


If I could return to my childhood, not to relive it, but to tell that child, through some mode of communication, some thing that might be of use to him, to make his life easier, or make him more capable of meeting life as it unfolded, so that he wouldn’t be spared its difficulties, but could respond to it with more honesty and courage than I had at the time, I suppose I would, though I wonder if, by doing so, I would undo whatever mechanisms have produced the person I am, and thus negate or extinguish me, which wouldn’t necessarily be a loss to the world, but which would be a loss to me, insofar as I don’t want to be extinguished, unless, by way of such an occurrence, I am delivered into the presence of whatever named or nameless entity created the world, and the mechanisms of which I speak.