Today I walked out of my safe haven |
| I finally came up with enough courage to give people that I talk to and consider friends this URL. I'm already beginning to doubt doing so, because I know from past experiences opening up and showing someone who you really are just scares them away.  | My dad used to tell me that talking about your problems is a way of showing weakness. Crying was another sign of weakness. Writing another. Acting another. And basically everything I did. He told me that the only way to make everyone truly happy was to put up a fake persona of yourself. One that people would enjoy being around and talking to. He said that if they fell in love with the fake you then there was nothing more to ask of them. He told me not to take the mask off, because that would just make everyone leave. That's why it's so hard to take off my smile in front of you. Me simply frowning in front of you is a sign that I trust you. It's because of this. It means that I felt comfortable enough to not have to pretend all the time. |
But then I woke up and I stopped reliving the moments of false happiness and reality came crashing down. It was two in the afternoon. My father should have come by now.
"Hey? Are you still at work?"
"Um no I'm not coming anymore."
"Um, okay. What do I tell the girls? Liz lost her tooth and she was looking forward to this weekend. You promised her you'd get her that book, remember?"
"I never promissed that and I have a huge headache I have to go bye."
"Nice real nice dad just get drunk the night before you're supposed to be a good father figure.
Real fucking mature."
No one really understands how irresponsible adults can be unless they've dealt with religious, alcoholic, drug-addict, or depressed parents. Luckily for me, my dad is all of the above. I don't know what happened. He hasn't always been this way.. And as cliche as it seems, I'll never admit this to my mom, but I've always figured it was my fault. My dad and I used to be really close. I was there for him and he was always there for me. He supported me and then I started changing. I was talking back and being disrespectful. I stopped doing the little things that made him happy. The small things like picking up after him, taking him a blanket and coffee after so late. Saying please and thank you. Calling him daddy. I changed him. I figured that it was just time to grow up and to change but it wasn't. He wasn't ready for it and he had a negative response to it all. The first day I got mad at him was the first day he didn't come home at night. The next day he arrived in a cops car. That was the beginning to a beautiful friendship with that car. I'm sure he's spent more nights in the back of a cops car then in a house. Because of me.
"Hey? Are you still at work?"
"Um no I'm not coming anymore."
"Um, okay. What do I tell the girls? Liz lost her tooth and she was looking forward to this weekend. You promised her you'd get her that book, remember?"
"I never promissed that and I have a huge headache I have to go bye."
"Nice real nice dad just get drunk the night before you're supposed to be a good father figure.
Real fucking mature."
No one really understands how irresponsible adults can be unless they've dealt with religious, alcoholic, drug-addict, or depressed parents. Luckily for me, my dad is all of the above. I don't know what happened. He hasn't always been this way.. And as cliche as it seems, I'll never admit this to my mom, but I've always figured it was my fault. My dad and I used to be really close. I was there for him and he was always there for me. He supported me and then I started changing. I was talking back and being disrespectful. I stopped doing the little things that made him happy. The small things like picking up after him, taking him a blanket and coffee after so late. Saying please and thank you. Calling him daddy. I changed him. I figured that it was just time to grow up and to change but it wasn't. He wasn't ready for it and he had a negative response to it all. The first day I got mad at him was the first day he didn't come home at night. The next day he arrived in a cops car. That was the beginning to a beautiful friendship with that car. I'm sure he's spent more nights in the back of a cops car then in a house. Because of me.
saturday.It's gotten worst. I've stayed up every night because I haven't been able to keep myself from thinking long enough to sleep. Lately I've been going through the details and it's like I've been reliving the days when I found out how worthless I truly was. "Let's go out tonight." "Out? Why do you like wanna go swimming or something?" "Ha, you're such an idiot why would we go swimming when we could go to the ditch party." "I don't know. I've never been to a ditch party before. I'd have to ask my mom before we leave..." "No. Come on, change. It's gonna be tons of fun. You're going out for the first of many nights that are full of excitement." | The events of that night replayed all day Saturday. I fell asleep twice and I just kept going through changing, leaving her house, going to the party, drinking and smoking. It was exciting. The rush was fulfilling and the constant worrying that at any moment you could get caught was exciting. It was a way of keeping my mind off the divorce and not having a dad. It was distracting and the fact that I wasn't so constantly worrying about my sisters or how the bills were going to get paid that night was really what I fell in love with. I fell in love with the rush of excitement. The ability to be distracted from all the horrid things in reality. The immaturity and messiness of it all. The rush. Most importantly, the excitement. |
 | Don't you cry, I'll be here for you. Who ever created this picture is my hero. I praise them for describing how I feel at the moment. The emotions rushing through my head are just overwhelming. Lately I've been conflicted because I want to open myself up to those who care and those who have begged me over and over again to talk. I love to talk, I really do. Just not about myself. But I'll learn and this will help me communicate to those who care. A new blog. A new audience. More trust is needed and I think I'm ready to open up to those around me. To those who are trying so hard. I know there are risks in doing this and I think I've come to realize no one can ever fuck me over as much as Alie and Edward did. |
