(no subject)
I guess my "real" dad is living in his car. still doing crack. drinking alot. no job. He told my mom he felt really bad for not recognizing me. She gave him the only picture she had of me in her purse, my 9th grade school photo. That made me cry. don't feel bad, just stop killing yourself! I want to go see him but I am so afraid of how it will make me feel, but I know he cannot live like that much longer. she says I shouldn't feel bad and he did it to himself, but of course she will say that. I just keep thinking about my only real memory of him as a dad (I have lots of other memories but none of them are of him being fatherly. mostly the hotel room with the pop tarts when he was in jail, and things being thrown and the bathroom always being locked. and other stuff not suitable for LJ) when I missed my bus stop in kindergarden and had to walk from the next one, I was so scared and just bawling and he was coming up the driveway to find me. The look on his face is burned into my memory, because it was so...caring and sympathetic and like what a dad would be like. I remember he was a handsome man. I can't really see the keyboard anymore. I wish I weren't alone. Maybe I will crawl into bed with heather