|Spilled Thoughts| Life is Strange.

Sometimes;

I laid on my bed on a warm evening, watching the sun slowly fade and turn to dark.

I hated nights like this, the lonely thought inducing ones. There was nothing else around to distract from endless reminders in the back of my head. They never went away, they would always stay there lingering, demanding to be felt.

I sighed, breathing out the smoke from my cigarette.

It wasn't fair; none of it. It had never been fucking fair. It always seemed so easy for other people, they had these friends and family that would be there for them no matter what.

I thought back to the day.

I sat waiting and waiting with Max, dad had promised to show us this new game he'd gotten. He'd left to pick mom up, promising to be back soon. I heard the door bell ring, together Max and I ran to the door thinking it would be dad. It wasn't. It was never dad after that. It was mom, she was in a hurry and concern was clear, she was saying something about dad and hospital. She drove Max and I still in our pyjamas to the hospital.

It didn't matter though, it was too late.

I walked to the hospital bed and looked at him, the only thing keeping him breathing the life support machine, which they were going to turn off. The buzzing of the machinery and silence from people around driving me insane. I wanted to scream, i wanted to fucking cry. I didn't know what to do.

The thing is with losing a parent, you never expect it to be you. You see it on tv and on the news, but you never, not once truly see it being your parents.

The worst part of it is that at first everyone cares, everyone wants to know if you're okay, or tell you to 'keep your chin up' and you smile and answer with a simple thanks, but inside you feel your heart sink, the lump in your throat hurting and the urge to just run away, you don't know where, or why, just anywhere.

After that, people stop caring. You end up being dropped as fast as an old TV plot-line, friends disappear or act like they care when actually they'd rather go home and talk to someone who isn't constantly hurting. People think you're seeking attention or have the audacity to say 'get over it'.

Then they go home every night and get to see their loving fathers, and feel the warmth of hugs, or small laughs and jokes from their father. They get to have their father wish them luck with a job interview, or watch you fall in love and make your future, I will never have that.

I will never hear my dad tell me that he loves me, or to tidy my room.

I will never be able to tell him about how my day at school was, or cry to him about something that'd hurt me.

What's worse? I'd see him in everything that made me smile. The family portrait on the wall, memories from adventures on holiday, the half complete painting on my house. He was everywhere, but nowhere at the same time.

No one understood, and I'd get the same bullshit everytime.

'I understand Chloe.'

No you fucking don't, you really don't.

Do you know what it's like to have to hear people complain about how 'annoying' their dads are, or how you should 'not let it bother you'?

Everyday I hear the same shit.

And god forbid that you're fucking sad about it, no, that's not allowed.

As soon as you're sad about it you're weak or vulnerable, you're seen as pitiful or over-emotional.

So you never cry, you never really think about it. Every time your sad, you make it so you're angry instead, it's easier to be angry, at least people think you're over it. At least they are honest about not wanting to be around you.

You never get over it. ever.

Not a day goes by where I'm not reminded of the hurt and anger I feel.

And not a day goes by where I don't have to pretend I'm okay, or act tough, whilst my thoughts eat away at the inches of happiness left.

Sometimes; I wish it had been me instead, there would be less sadness and pain then there is now.