the loft

veins in color

you know the saying " if you love something let it go " with all of its tugging synonyms and vibrant hallmark references . the one that so many people have held onto one arm around it the other around a tub of blue bell to try and reasurre themselves that their love held between them and lucky caller number 3 existed in the first place. well today just happened to be my turn in the circle of cliche sayings as I left the only thing ive found myself to know, home. that wonderfuly plastered paint chipped building located right in middle of the oh so famous minot, north dakota.  and I know you must be thinking by my woderfully optimistic first immpression I mustve made on you already, jane if the house had such a generic appearance a - why is it so special and b - wherd you get your sarcastic gifts. and to answer both of those questions in one word thatd be my dad . growing up my dad mr. jack ingrid was never found without me by his side smiling a toothless grin in some areas. it was a guarentee that you could find him making frozen pizza for me when I was upset and failing miserably to braid my hair, tugging the fuzzy socks off my feet claiming that if I was going to be confident about myself I had to showcase what I was given or the classic tradition of him singing me to sleep with the classic tune ' young and beautiful by elvis presley '. but dont let it fool you into believing that im a human with emotions or anything am I right 19 year old females with mental disease ! depression that is but I think everyone finds themselves depressed at one point in their life. anyways back on track, my dad unfortunetly passed a few weeks ago leaving my mom and I in broken pieces both never speaking and both seperated into locked rooms making no effort to comfort one another or let the other know that they were still breathing, alive. but I suppose mourning is a bit similar to the circulatory system when you think about it , every breath that you take, inhaling the flashes of what your life is without them and exhaling what it could have been if they had never left , the pain reaching each and every fiber of your existance, from the fabric of your finger tips and coursing throught your body mapping its way through the maze of other inhabitants much like veins. since my mom made no effort to care for me any longer and could see that I wasnt going to let her either , and partly because of the fact that every square inch of the home reminded me of my father I took the natural choice and moved out to the corner of mouring avenue. which in all reality was an old part of the city knoxville tennesee. and today was the day, so I stood watching my belongings be loaded onto a moving truck and sipped apple cider positive in the fact that my mother was watching my every move and had no problem with it at all, me just leaving without a goodbye, not one bit.