March 6, 2014.
3 years, 3 months.
I promise you that the next letter I’ll write will be undeniably positive and light-hearted.
But for now, I’m working through something in my head and I feel that I can’t really move forward until I write it down for you to read one day.
This is the kind of letter I don’t intend for you to read until you’re old enough to read/and or watch The Hunger Games; which contains the mood and similar content as this letter.
The irony here is that I just tucked you in for the night a few hours ago, as we said our bedtime prayers; an unspoken way of saying, “Don’t worry, I will help protect you.”
It’s my job to give you assurance of safety and to be your mighty guardian. There is no doubt I will
protect you with my life as it is up to me. Yet I myself am caught in a current emotional state of… insecurity, for lack of a better word.
For the past week, I have been studying the “alternative version” of the 911 attacks as presented in the documentary Loose Change, on both Netflix and YouTube.
It pointed out some things I had never considered before: I admit there is no clear footage of the plane hitting the Pentagon, nor pictures of it happening either. I can’t explain that. I’ve actually lost sleep over this and several other aspects of the September 11th attacks, as presented in Loose Change.
However, I believe in hearing both sides of the story. So I’ve also recently been w
atching the clever rebuttles of Myles Powers as well, on YouTube, which help me feel more confident that the claims of Loose Change are not as easily factual as they appear.
I don’t know for certain what to think right now, but I will keep studying both sides of the story. I want the truth in such an uncertain world; where the Twin Towers were hit by planes back in 2001, and just a couple of days ago, a plane from Malaysia apparently just disappeared in flight.
So I admit, my head is a bit messy right now; and to be honest, I probably shouldn’t be writing to you tonight. Maybe I should have just taken the night off because I’ll probably later regret my vulnerability here.
As Mommy and I continue to peripherally have to the ongoing conversation of “should we have another kid?”, this general concept keeps coming up as one of the reasons to possibly let you remain an only child:
There is so much evil and uncertainty in this world, so why bring another human life into that sort of existence?
Maybe it’s an irrational thought, but I think that question itself shows not so much my insecurity as a parent, as it does my deep, ongoing need to feel like I must protect you at all times, which I know I can’t.
However, you’re my son. I feel like I’m supposed to have all the answers. Or at least be able to keep you from all harm and danger.
I want you to believe I’m Superman.
But really I know I’m just Clark Kent.