an open letter to a selfish bastard
You would have been 25 today. Half a century old. Maybe by now we would have been speaking to each other again. Family drama tore us apart, and a ridiculous grudge kept us that way. I was never able to tell you I was sorry, and that I din't want to stay away. Life happened and in that life I was not able to be the friend you needed, or the person you wanted me to be.
On August 5th, 2005, less than two months after your 20th birthday you parked yourself on a rail road crossing and waited for your end to come. Life had gotten so hard for you that death was your best option. I hated you for that. I hated myself for that. I hated everyone for that. Most of all I wished that there had been some way I knew that you needed help. Did anyone see that? Or did you keep it bottled up inside? Was this something you actually planned or just a whim that caught your fancy one morning?
What the hell were you thinking!? Did you even think at all? Did you stop to consider what this would do to your parents, or your sister? How about Zack? He was your BEST FRIEND for fuck's sakes. Did you talk to him? Did you tell him? Why didn't you find a way to get a hold of me? Why didn't you fucking come find me. You promised. You promised as soon as high school was done, that you were getting out of that town. You promised you'd come down to the cities, and find work or get into college. You wanted to make something of yourself, and not just work at the fucking factory or work with your dad.
What the hell happened to that kid who had a head full of dreams and such big plans? What the hell went wrong with your life that it was so bad you had to leave the rest of us behind? What the hell happened to not giving a shit about what everyone else thought and just being yourself?
What the hell happened.
I fucking hate you. I want you to come back just so I can fucking kill you myself.
I fucking hate you. I want you to come back so that I can prove to you that you ARE worth it.
The worst part is, I don't hate you at all. I fucking miss you. I just want you here, alive.
I want that kid back who couldn't get enough of his stupid fucking Double-O-7 video game and taking the enemies out with sniper shots. I want that kid back who sat in a deer stand until 4 in the morning watching the stars and talking about how he was going to be someone great one day. I want that kid back who used to sneak into the hay loft at 8 am with a box of cereal and a jug of milk because he knew I would have eaten the bowl I brought with me, and no matter how much I wanted more knew I wouldn't go back inside because I was too afraid to wake everyone up. I want that kid who held my hand in the middle of June because he knew I'd punch him if he tried to hug me. I miss that kid who would play full contact football with me, and didn't once grimace or complain that I was a girl.
I want that kid back.
You're a selfish fucking bastard, but I miss you. You were my selfish bastard and that's all that mattered.
On August 5th, 2005, less than two months after your 20th birthday you parked yourself on a rail road crossing and waited for your end to come. Life had gotten so hard for you that death was your best option. I hated you for that. I hated myself for that. I hated everyone for that. Most of all I wished that there had been some way I knew that you needed help. Did anyone see that? Or did you keep it bottled up inside? Was this something you actually planned or just a whim that caught your fancy one morning?
What the hell were you thinking!? Did you even think at all? Did you stop to consider what this would do to your parents, or your sister? How about Zack? He was your BEST FRIEND for fuck's sakes. Did you talk to him? Did you tell him? Why didn't you find a way to get a hold of me? Why didn't you fucking come find me. You promised. You promised as soon as high school was done, that you were getting out of that town. You promised you'd come down to the cities, and find work or get into college. You wanted to make something of yourself, and not just work at the fucking factory or work with your dad.
What the hell happened to that kid who had a head full of dreams and such big plans? What the hell went wrong with your life that it was so bad you had to leave the rest of us behind? What the hell happened to not giving a shit about what everyone else thought and just being yourself?
What the hell happened.
I fucking hate you. I want you to come back just so I can fucking kill you myself.
I fucking hate you. I want you to come back so that I can prove to you that you ARE worth it.
The worst part is, I don't hate you at all. I fucking miss you. I just want you here, alive.
I want that kid back who couldn't get enough of his stupid fucking Double-O-7 video game and taking the enemies out with sniper shots. I want that kid back who sat in a deer stand until 4 in the morning watching the stars and talking about how he was going to be someone great one day. I want that kid back who used to sneak into the hay loft at 8 am with a box of cereal and a jug of milk because he knew I would have eaten the bowl I brought with me, and no matter how much I wanted more knew I wouldn't go back inside because I was too afraid to wake everyone up. I want that kid who held my hand in the middle of June because he knew I'd punch him if he tried to hug me. I miss that kid who would play full contact football with me, and didn't once grimace or complain that I was a girl.
I want that kid back.
You're a selfish fucking bastard, but I miss you. You were my selfish bastard and that's all that mattered.