What's home, if not the first place you run away from? What's love, if not that unexplainable, blazing feeling which comes after a period of hate?
Reputable for her catchy appearance, her over-niceness, her obsession with cartoon animations and her...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Eminem ft. Billie Eilish - Don't Cry.
♣️
THE DEATH OF A loved one is enough to make a man lose his mind.
The last time I got drunk was when my papa died eleven years ago. He was always vocal about his dislike for liquor. He said getting drunk made men stupid and senseless. He was right. The irony of this bullshit story though, is he came home drunk every night, with a new scent of perfume oozing off him in waves.
I didn't realize it until I entered my late teens—he got drunk to forget. To bear the heavyweight shame on his shoulders. To look my mama in the eyes after he broke another one of his stupid rules from his thick-ass rule book.
Safe to say, I hardly picked up alcohol after I woke up, head throbbing, the day after his funeral. In my opinion, that was the day I became a man. That man whom my papa could never become. I threw numerous things away and made a new life for myself and my family. I made life-altering decisions that day. I swore oaths to myself.
Oaths that I seldom get tempted to break...until few days ago.
Anger.
Pure, raw, ever-growing, raging anger.
Sadness.
Deep, gut wrenching, soul twisting, agonizing sadness.
Pain.
The last time I ever felt so strongly was also when my papa died.
Take care of Taylor. I know I don't deserve to ask anything of you, but she's alone in the world right now. And you're the only one I trust, Davian.
Those were my papa's last words to me before he died, and I've failed him. Even moreso, I've failed Taylor.
I grew up in the midst of sin, chaos, blood and violence. In my past, those things were acceptable, they were the things men rubbed shoulders about and made bets with. But then, Taylor was introduced into my life; she was warm and serene and everything in-between, and she made me want to become a better man.
I wasn't supposed to like her. I was supposed to dislike her, considering the insufferable amount of pain her mama brought upon mine, but fuck, it was impossible to hate such a little girl with wild eyes and a mellow heart who pestered me and clung to me like moth would a flame.
She wasn't brought up like I was; she was whisked into my world without her own permission because her mama fell in love with my papa, and I could tell she hated it. She hated it, but she never let her emotions inconvenience any of her family members.
As soon as my papa died though, she made it obvious how much she wanted to leave. It wasn't easy, but it was something I had to do; not just for her, for my entire family. I left Montréal and strived to make a better, safer life for us outside of the confines of all the malice.
