AMIANISM / PDF PAGE 84 OF 181
26. My Daughter, the Missing Center
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68 26. My Daughter, the Missing Center Journal Entry My daughter is not the flag of my rebellion. She is a person whose life belongs to her. Everything circled the missing center. Politics. Religion. War. Money. The courts. The machine. Underneath all of it was a simple sentence I could not bear to leave simple: I missed my daughter. I did not know how to hold that grief without turning it into an accusation against the universe. So I built a universe that was guilty. I wrote systems into monsters because a monster can be fought. Absence cannot. A child grows while you argue with the past. Birthdays pass. School years pass. Voices change. The father imagines every possible life because he does not know the real one. Imagination becomes a second family, and it is always available, always painful, never able to answer. I wrote that I would fix the world so no one else would experience what I experienced. That desire contained love. It also contained vanity. I wanted public redemption for a private failure. I wanted the world to confirm that I had been wronged so completely that nothing else I had done would need examination. The truth is not clean enough for a manifesto. The wound was real. The feeling remains.