Reading Journals

I think I could actually read other people's journal's all day and night.  To me, sometimes it's just as theraputic to read other journal's, as it is to write in my own.  You know how sometimes, you have a really sad memory and you try to avoid thinking about it.  Mine is a memory of a person.  I try not to think of him.  I try not to look as his picture that is in most rooms of my house.  I try not to look at where he used to live. (right next door) Some days, I can do this fairly well.  But today, I came across a journal that made it so I couldn't avoid him at all.  Do you ever feel like it's good to have that sad memory thrown up in your face.  Just once and a while have a good cry about it?  Sometimes, I feel like I hold him inside all the time and eventually it all has to come spilling out.  For a long time I swear, he was haunting me.  I would dream about him constantly.  I heard things that weren't there.  Felt things that weren't there.  One night, I just started screaming for him to leave me alone... and he did.  Now, there's days when I miss the "haunting."  It was probably all in my mind but I miss it none the less.  It was almost like he was here.  There's days I wish I could forget him entirely.  Days I wish I'd never met him.  Because then, I wouldn't feel so much pain when thinking about him.  I wouldn't wish him back.  I wouldn't have to wonder what life would be like if he hadn't left us all.  His sister and brother wouldn't have to wonder what he'd think of his nephews.  And they wouldn't have to look at them everyday, only to know they will never meet their wonderful uncle.  A man that was bigger than any room could hold.  Maybe that's why he's not here anymore.  He was just too big for this world.