whadddapppp. Poughkeepsie today. world’s smallest road trip. it’s gonna be rad!
work in progress. I named him Rachel (hahah)
there’s nothing better than personal art therapy,
get off of my floor
where the fuck are my pants? ugh ugh ugh
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA U JUST KILLED ME
The cold.
warning: this post is not a moper free zone. in other words, it isn’t recommended for non mopers. in other words, i don’t give a fuck who reads this and who doesn’t.
hi pops. i don’t know what i should say first. ah, the weather. its getting that time of year again. its starting to get pretty cold here, except we keep getting a few random days that are filled with sun and you’d think i would be happy about that, but hey, if it’s supposed to be cold then i expect it to be cold, a lot less confusion for me in the morning when getting ready to go out… i should stop pretending as if you don’t already know these things though; because for every cold morning that i’ve woken up to i cannot shake the image from my mind of you laying in the cold ground and while i trud my feet around wrapped in fuzzy socks you’re frozen in a suit, no warmth, no life and probably not even bones anymore. the same thing goes for every wind that brushes my cheek as I’m walking through this neighborhood that for the most part has bits and pieces of you spread all over it. no one probably notices, but when i walk outside i can’t help but glance at every cable box propped on a pole and run my eyes along the wires that i don’t even have to think twice to know you’ve ran them. I’m sure if i looked close enough i’d discover your initials carved into the wooden poles or some cryptic bible verse scribbled onto walls you’ve leant on. i feel like people are forgetting, and although i know more than anything that that’s the least bit true, its just this feeling i have that not everyone still possesses that fear and just petrifying shock as we all experienced the day you ended it all. but dad, i can tell you one thing and it is that i still feel the pain and emptiness your actions inflicted. I’m sure people feel sympathy for the situation and wish to take it all away, but i’d never erase this from my memory if i had the chance, because this is the only distinct thing i have to remember you by. it’s a terrible thing but it is not about forgiveness anymore because that’s bullshit, you are gone, you were never present enough for me to recall and your suicide lacked a note and most importantly a goodbye. a sorry or a petty pretended hand shake is not going to justify any of this; it never has and it never will. i want you to know what’s going on. I’m a senior now, i’ll be off to college in a few months and i know you sense that I’m fucking scared no matter how much i try to fool people that i’m careless about this shit. Moms boyfriend is locked up but that situation should be resolved soon, hopefully..kind of. The boys are doing exceptionally well, actually, and i know that if you were here you would be proud. Josh has his music, adam’s back in school, Brian and Magda are married, Michelle is getting back on her feet for the most part and James is..well, james. I want you to know that when i screamed i couldn’t wait to get away from you all i really meant was that i couldn’t wait to get away from the monster you became. never on this earth would i want you to believe that i never wanted you, my father. you’re probably wondering why I’m even writing this to you at such a random moment, but the best answer is just that missing you is always a permanent thing, it’s become a way of my life, but some days i just decide to let it out like today and some days its just uncontrollable. i might as well be honest with you though, because i can’t say i ever was with confidence..but I’m at a point where i feel like i need your advice on so many things and i have no one here to provide it. i think what hurts me the most is that every other girl gets to get lectured by her dad about boys and anything else potentially life fucker uppers, and they get to complain about how they know their dad cares but they just don’t want to hear it. i can’t do that shit. mom doesn’t pay attention when she needs to and when i go to her, i already know whats right and what’s wrong so what’s the point? which is why i end up doing the wrong thing. I need you to realize that I’m lacking that factor that typical teenagers have; being cared for without thinking about it; being cared for and pushing it away. i want more than anything for you to be here and for you to be the person that everyone talked about you as at your funeral. i don’t know who that person was, but i know who you were to me, and so I’m pretty sure you turning back into a saint is just too much of a task for god to perform. I’m craving that hug you gave that one time though more than I’m craving java chip which i should stop eating. *sigh* well, i guess this is how it’s always going to be. me getting stuffy nosed and teary eyed when I’m not even sure you’re watching. i’ll write to you again, because i don’t know what i’d do if i convinced myself you didn’t care completely.
ps: i so regret not putting a blanket in that death box of yours. love ya.
