Nothing left to say
It's running close to six am right now. I still haven't slept and it's not because of anything I've done. I assume that it's because I still have that bit of nocternal blood in me thanks to my Mamma Dot. I've been thinking for the last few hours of all those that have left me behind. Everyone wonders how I can talk so cooly of those that die in my family. Yet I don't think anyone really understands how many I've lost with no return. My Mamma Dot left me at three... everyone tells me that if she had lived I would be liveing with her. My Mom even told me that she would have sent me to live with her long ago if she had servived. The thing is she had a massive stroke when I was three. She lost all of her motor skills. Yet, when they were taking me away from the window of the ICU she, with out the supposive ablity, picked up her hand and waved good-bye to me and that was the last time I saw her. They didn't even let me see her at her funael. What scares me is I'm afraid that she may have been the only one that truely loved me, and I wouldn't even remember her face if it wasn't for pictures. Then we moved from the place that we were liveing off of her money to the place I live even now. I met Zack here he was the first person I met down here. He lived down the street from me. He and I were inseperable through out my childhood. His family raised me as much as my own did. All was happy for awhile. Then around the age of seven his father drove to a church parking lot and shot himself there. His father was like my own if not more so because I loved him like a father. I remember going to the wake and it was closed casket, because the gun did so much damage to him that they couldn't fix him up. I never got to even see him again. I do remeber the last time I saw him, He was sitting in the liveing room working on some papers from work on the computer. I had skinned my knee and he got up and put somthing on it and it stung and I started crying so he blew on it and gave me a band-aid, then went back to work as Zack and I ran off to play. That was the last time I remeber him. These times have taught me that deal with death because it's enevitable. I don't even remeber My great grand father on my mothers side, much more that I called him paw paw Pattesis and that he smoked out of a wooden pipe and he smoked cherry tobacco and I remember he smelled like that and peppermints. My great grandmother on my mom's side I don't remember her at all the way she was. I only remember her after the atizmeres had her so that she didn't even know who I was. Though they wer more like my grandparent then my actul grandparents because they raised my mom. My grand mother I don't call her that I call her Betty Joe because she's just like another person to me not a grandparent. Her husband though before he died I think he was my moms dad...but I'm not sure, I'm not sure I've ever met my real grand father on my moms side. But the one that I new to be my grandfather I really liked him, I think my love of animals may have begain from him. I remember one time he found a nest of humming birds and nursed them back to health because the mother had died. At the time they lived back in the mountians in a house that was really a big shack but that didn't matter to me, because there was so many animals. But the humming birds I was there the day he relesed them and He let me touch one. I was incredible, I had never been close to one before, and he me touch it. but he's gone now. I was told he was cleaning a gun and it went off, when I was little I was told this later I was told it was just suicide. Therbert was his name. So many else have died since then but it's a long list and I was just thinking of them tonight. My life has been nothing but a consent attending of funarels it's almost to the point that I don't even want to go anymore. When most people smell flowers they think of spring and happiness but from and early age I've associated them with death. I can't help it, because that's were I've been most of the time to smell them. I've lost so many. Jessica told me the other day that I need to stop bottleing stuff up but if I didn't I'd be a reck all the time because I don't think anyone can really understand how much I've lost. at least most people out there have some family to run to somewhere. Mine is all dying, dead, or just plain don't care. Hows that for something solid to stand on?