Stay

Gone

What felt like hours, were now days. Soon enough, days became months, months became years...

He died.

I hate when people say "be calm" or "you'll be fine". Define "fine". If fine means dead in the inside and numb on the outside then it's what I am.

I wasn't always lonely till my father died. We were best friends.

I remember standing outside playing with my little soccer ball alone, it was very hard to make friends because every now and then we would move because of my dads work.

He came and stopped the ball with his foot. I laughed because whenever he came up to me he would make these silly faces.

He would say, "catch me if you can!" and I would chase after him and laugh. Then, I fell and I gutted my knee he ran over, took me to the bathroom and cleaned it, slapped on a band-aid and said, "nothing will ever happen to my princess again as long as I am here!". I remember smiling and hugging his big body with my tiny arms.

Why did he have to go?

I am all alone. I remember crying for weeks till I couldn't see. Starved myself to the bone.

People... they — they love to say "you'll be fine". Well—

Define fine.

I'm lots of things and fine isn't one of them.  Fine isn't even close.

I stood next to his body, laying peacefully in that brown casket. They tried to get me to sit in the chairs of the church but I didn't. I couldn't — I couldn't leave him.

I wanted to stop crying but it was something about this pain, something about these tears that were burning my cheeks. Something.... odd.

I was one with the pain and it was one with me.

It was a couple weeks after the funeral, I had been staying with a wreck of a mother. Feeding coke into her nose and pumping it into her veins.

I didn't speak to her much. Whenever we talked she would only beg me for money.

I would usually tell her no and walk away. Sometimes it would get violent and she would hit me with whatever was close in distance.

I hate her. She was useless.

When I was younger my dad took custody of me and made my life better. He played the role of not only a father but also a mother.

I came downstairs to find her now passed out on the couch. Seeing her created this rage with me. It made my blood boil.

Can't wait for the day where I finally save enough money and leave. Leave her and this place.

This house is not a home. This place is everything I despise.

I had saved up over 2,000 dollars in my closet. Hidden in a jar. I want when I am 18 next year, I gather my things and rent an apartment.

Now that I have a job, I can finally keep saving and I will reach my goal of saving 5,000 or more by the end of the year.

I was now at school. The second place that I despise.

I knew that this year is when I graduate and slowly awaited the time to come and go...