Long time, No see
That's really kind of a crude saying if you really think about it.
So I haven't been on here in a really long time.
I should start again. It could help me out allot, I think.
Lately I've been really depressed. I'm starting to go to counseling to help me deal with it. My alcoholism too. I'm up to a little more than a 6 pack a night. That's fuckin crazy to me. It doesn't seem like I drink that much, but that's mostly due to the fact that I drink tall cans of 211, and one of those is like 3-4 beers, and i drink 2 of them. It's just crazy.
You wanna know whats crazier?
My dad died.
September 3, 2006
At like 10 in the morning
decapitation.
And it hurts so fuckin deep, I can't even explain. I couldn't begin to describe it.
At the time...at the time I didn't want him in my life anymore. He hurt me to bad to many times. I couldn't handle anymore. So I pushed him away. I tried to disown him. But it was hard. I still wanted things from him, and he was to willing to give them to me. I had a connection that I couldn't break.
And then I got the call at 2:30 am, it was my sister, I was happy to hear from her. She asked how I was doing, I said I was ok, then she said it. Those words you don't ever expect to hear. Those words you don't ever want to hear.
Papa died.
What?
What?!
Are you serious?
What are you saying?
That cant be!
I saw him yesterday!
No...
No!
No no no!
This cant be!
How could this have happened??
what happened?!
And it was all questions after that.
and there's still questions.
Questions that will never be answered because we couldn't afford an autopsy, one that they promised us. One we deserved. The reason they wouldn't do one was because he would have died anyway. But we still deserved answers.
We still deserve answers
Sigh.
So we started drinking. And I didn't stop. We drank and got drunk, drank and got drunk, drank and got drunk. We tried to be happy. But tried to be sad.
No, there was no trying to be sad. Half the time we were trying Not to be happy. I felt that every time I smiled it betrayed him. I felt that every time I smiled I was telling the world that it was ok, that I didn't care.
I didn't want to fall asleep for fear of dreaming about him. I didn't want to dream that everything was ok, that he was alive and then wake up to this.....
to lose him again.
Sigh.
I know that there's a beer in the fridge. And I want it. I want it now.
I want to go back to sleep.
To dream of something better.
I miss him.
I got out of the shower the other day and though "I should call papa".
then I laughed at my cold stupidity.
I should go.