18 Years

I know you’re watching over me. Maybe as I am typing these words, you are behind me reading. I just want to tell you that I miss you terribly. I wish we had more time.

I’m not blaming you for the struggles life has thrown me but I wish you were there to guide me to the right direction. I never understood your passing until I was old enough to make decisions for myself. Life is hard, I bet you know already know that. But it so much harder when your father isn’t present.

18 years. You have been gone for 18 years. Has it been that long? I’d admit that there was a time I got used to not having a father. Mama did a great job raising two kids alone. But there are days when I wonder what it is like if you hadn’t died? Would I have ever been this damaged?

In case you are wondering, today is one of those days.

I also regret that I wasn’t old enough to tell you how much I love you. And I cannot remember a lot of things from when you were alive. Except for that night you went home from the hospital and you told us you sneaked out of the hospital to get us Dunkin’ Donuts.

I am furious that we don’t have a lot of memories. We could have created tons of stupid memories so when the time comes that you have to leave, I am left with something.

You were gone to soon, Daddy. I love you.

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The Thirteenth

It has happened: I finally skipped a day.

I wish I had a better reason but I don’t. I didn’t want to release my rage, is why. I am feeling a little sad from being led on by a guy but I’ll cope. I know I will. I just have to promise myself on this monumental day that I shouldn’t give in to anyone easily.

Well in all honesty, I gave the guy a hard time. Maybe he was in for the chase. Maybe he was keeping me afloat in case he needed someone to flirt with. (I am not even a good flirt.) Maybe he just screws with people for fun? I don’t know but I thought he fought a good fight so I let my guard down. A colossal mistake, I admit. I shouldn’t really trust my feelings.

It’s a great back story to my impending drunken doom. Come Friday I will trade feelings of betrayal and regret for something some people might think is shallow: a night of booze, friends, and good music. I plan to dispose my phone somewhere safe. I don’t intend to send drunk messages to this guy because that would defeat the point of my back story.

Here’s to stressful work week ahead and ┬áto the guy who made a slow disaster out of me.