01/05/2017
Dear Father,
I don't know if you know how much I cried when I first started learning to drive my bike. Or if you remember my first day of middle school. Or the evenings at grandma's and grandpa's house. I don't know if you know how many times I weeped when you left for work, for a week. I don't know if you actually know me, or if I know myself.
Maybe I'm just emotional because of the depression that's consuming my every thought. Maybe because I feel lonely and can't sleep at night, because I've set myself a challenge. I have to change in 365 days or else... I don't know what else.
I don't know much, as you can see from this letter and it's like everybody knows and I don't. Plus, they like to throw that fact straight into my face for some reason. Or do I just feel so attacked?
Lately I've been feeling like my heart's become my punching bag. I've always wanted to start kickboxing and this time I've grabbed the opportunity to kick my opponent in the teeth, instead of being kicked in the teeth myself. Wow, I sound like an absolute fool.
But yeah, this weekend has been shit, this past month has been shit, even though my dream to go to Rome has come true. I realise now that I'm just an ungrateful twat, who keeps annoying everyone.
I'm sorry that I'm still so distant, even after you got another job.
Love,
Your Blackbird
