This is my mind.
I almost can't seem to even think straight anymore, everything is bland, and I sit here having to wonder if I was good enough.
was I a good enough daughter to you dad? I know its harsh to even sit here and rant over these kinds of things but really, was I that good dad?
I can't do anything. you're. dead. that's it, and as an 18-year-old girl on the verge of graduating high school I sit in my dark kitchen hating every minute of it. I can't seem to move on, I can't even take a day where I don't think about you. I'm so pissed off because you broke your promise to me. I hate you for it.
Hate is such a strong word, you hear everyone say it now, but I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.
I cant figure out my own emotions anymore, life was so easy when you were alive because I could hate you for being such a bad dad but now, I have to hate you because you can't become a better one. youre. dead.
dead.
its permanent and I literally can't comprehend it. It's been a year and i still live through the moments of looking at your corpse on a daily basis and I am traumatized.
you looked disgusting dad. horrible, you were yellow, short, skinny, and literally everything you raised me to resent. you became the people you used to make fun of when we drove through Houston dad, and I hate you for it.
I'm not even a negative person but what can i do when i have to sit here and relive the trauma you put me through. "oh, sweetie I know it's hard,"
do you know how sick i am of hearing that dad? do you? because you don't hear it, you get to sit in a box and just be ashes for the rest of eternity. you get to sit in the room you never even stepped foot in and it haunts me because you will never know, hear, or see the number of tears i cried for you to be a better father. was it really that hard to love me? was it? Am I that hard to love dad?
You loved that woman? you really did? to the point where heroin and her was all that you needed in life. I hate you.
Did you know I got 6th today in a writing contest dad? I did really good.
Did you know I went to prom last year dad? I looked really pretty. It was. fun.
Did you know that I committed to play college softball dad? it was our dream, I did it!
there are so many things i want to tell you but i literally can't, i just have to sit here alone in a dark kitchen practically typing my fingertips off because this is how fast I'm thinking. I can't stop it anymore dad. I hate it.
I hate grieving you, I hate everything about it because I get so pissed off that i can't call you and tell you how much I hate you again, yes i did that before. Happy Father's Day dad. sorry that the last thing i said to you was so awful but honestly, if you hadn't of died that same year, and you lived to see another Father's Day i would do it again. because you were an awful dad to me.
you died 6 years ago, but when you actually died last year, that's when my hope for you died and i cannot explain to you how much that hurt. i just wanted you to see me graduate, you even promised me you would. you promised dad.
I could call you so many names dad, and it's hard for me not to since I got my smart mouth from you, I got the anger gene too dad, you know how frustrating it is that every time I get really pissed off I think of you? or when I change 8 times a day, I think of you. or when I turn on the radio and a stupid Billy Joel song plays I think of you. I hate it.
I hate everything you caused dad, and I wish you would've just been a dad to me. I really do wish you would've.
did you know that the woman you were so in love with didn't care one bit? want to know what she said after you died?
"I'm actually doing pretty good, thanks for asking."
how's that for you dad? how did that feel?
there's one thing I learned from you though dad, it's that no matter how much you love someone, no matter what you give them to help them, they will not change. honestly, maybe that's what I needed. you always told me, you can't change someone who doesn't want to change, and then boom, you became your own example. isn't that sad? I bet if you were alive, you'd pity yourself about it for a few days.
I'm sorry.
I love you.
to those who've come back to read what I write, thank you.
This is my mind.
YOU ARE READING
A Writer's Downfall.
PoetryThe reader will read this book and ask, where's the story? But really, this is no story, nor entertainment, this is what's real and the ugliest parts of me.