life's stepping stool

He didn't mean it, but he meant it

I was always so naive to where my father swore it would be my demise. I believed everything everybody told me. If someone told me bigfoot was alive, the tooth fairy would give me money, the boogeyman creeps throughout my room in the dark, camping under my bed and in my closet. That was the only thing that would scare me before I knew the real world. It took my father's murder for me to realize I'm being anxious about the wrong things.I'm a loner and I don't regret it. My father was a social butterfly, he knew everybody in town. Yet they forgot about my existence. Being as social as he was though was bound to bring in problems. It was December 18, 2017, he went out to play cards leaving me, a 15-year-old, home alone. We got into an argument beforehand about how he was never around, his excuse was that he was just somebody I wasn't. He said I was like my mother, "somebody who nobody can depend on and a waste of air to talk to."

Those words penetrated me deeply, leaving me confused, angry, sad, and sick of it all. My mother moved across the globe after having me and leaving me with my father. I still have yet to know anything about her before or after she left. I had too many emotions to even handle to the point I couldn't even look that man in the eyes. My fist was clenched tight to my side, and my teeth were as close together as they could be. Tears rolling down your face and the feeling of being betrayed can do something to a person. Yet, the best thing to do is walk away, and that's just what I did. Walk away from my problem who was my father.it may sound cliche, but that was our last conversation. I thought it would be how it was every other day. We argue and exchange words, he goes out, and everything's fine by morning, whether it's genuine or it's the alcohol talking. 

it could've been like this if he wasn't the naive one. the man was quick to say he was better than me because he could be friends with people faster, which is partially true, but he never cared about who he was hanging around. He could be as out of place as possible, yet it wouldn't bother him. A 49-year-old white man named Max, who was balding yet had the nerve to wear a short curlyish style with his black hair, with a mole on top of his eyebrow, the clearest and bluest eyes, thin lips, and straight but not perfectly white smile, could sit in a room full of drug dealers and killers and still not mind. he's better at that. That hypothetical setting isn't far off from what happened. He went to play cards with the wrong group of people, and he lost his life. An old friend of his for 19 years said he was cheating, and nobody could tolerate that. He said it with the biggest and scummiest smile as a man shot my father with no remorse. If he could do that and not care, I'm almost sure they continued to play with a dead man in the chair beside them.

The strange thing about it was that I felt nothing after it. I didn't want my father to die, but he proved my point. he was better at socializing and I'm better at being a loner. I'm better being alone and alive and he's better at being social and dead. I say this not to sound like a jerk or nonchalant, but life has a funny way of teaching lessons and can use others to help portray that image. It's safe to say that just sealed the deal for my alone time. I would barely eat so I wouldn't have to go out into the world, so I wouldn't have to make friends, so I wouldn't end up like my father.

It was hard at first, my body was just about used to being in starvation mode before actually adjusting, now I'm a natural. The only downfall is I'm almost always weak and I'm anemic. Sometimes I don't even have enough energy to get out of bed without wanting to faint. I have to learn to overcome the obstacles life loves to throw at me though. It's like I'm the main threat when there are literally more than 50 active serial killers in the U.S. as we speak, but yes, the main threat is a high school girl. This brings in more problems because it's been a day since my father was shot and I have to go to school tomorrow since it's the day before Christmas break. I can just imagine how all of the fake pity I'm going to get from the seniors and maybe the sophomores. The infamous "bullying" is going to erupt now that my father's dead also.I'm ready to see what life has in store for me.