Our Little Secret

Smoke in the air.

I think the hardest part about writing this is remembering. With all the smoking I've done throughout the years to forget, I can honestly say most has blurred.

My trust for authorities has diminished the older I got. With my history I've always had a hard time trusting anyone with any sorts of power.

Opening up has been such a show of emotions that I love keeping bottled in.

I did whatever I could to get out of that place. I did feel safe, sober, and protected but once my secrets were out and I was put under watch, I changed my act so that I could escape that mad house.
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Today I found another pin.

Special agent of the drug enforcement administration. Oh, how the irony.

It just gives me more questions. You see, the older I got the more I distanced myself from him and that side of the family. I have so much that I don't know and will not because of the separation. It's not something I chose to do, it just gradually happened and I made no attempt at reconnecting, for the safety of myself. It hurts because I have a whole life there that I could have had, family that loves me that I choose not to see or call because of everything. Some who tried to reach out to me and I gradually stopped responding. They think I hate them. It's not the truth. I'm just nervous.

A member of the DEA? That seems so crazy to me. I don't know why, I know it was possible. If he still was and this was another time line, I'd probably never have touched a drug in my life. It's so incredible, the stories he must have, the stories I wish I could hear.

My father, the one who while driving asked me, "Do you know what marijuana is?" I didn't at the time, so I shook my head and replied no. He then lit up a joint and we continued on our way in the blast of loud music he always played.

My father, the one who would casually start falling asleep as he watched over me as I grew older. Never questioning why myself, I realized as I grew older he was possibly doing heavier drugs such as coke, meth, or heroine. I can't be sure which, they kept it all from me. My grandparents knew, he eventually began to sober up at rehab while they watched over. (Which was also hidden from me.) And that's okay, I was too young to understand.

He was going through something, and I might never know what. I don't really know who he is, and it makes me upset in a way. I wish I did.
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Cigarette smoke. A smell that automatically reminds me of him- tobacco smoke wafting in the air. He was a heavy smoker, which of course had put a toll on his lungs. He had at one point left his job and retired because he wanted to spend more time with me as I grew older, but that never happened. End up in the hospital a lot, at one point he grew sick.

They never told me exactly what was going on with him, just that he had to have dialysis sometimes. The quality of the air from 9/11 affected him horribly, the cigarettes, and maybe more that I haven't noted.
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