Description: i want to say that this is a draft and that i really want to let you know that the grammer doesn't count much to me. I wrote it in seven minutes after i found out that my dad left my mother yesterday. i acted like it didn't bother me but it did more than you would know. sometimes i think i said things that i didn't mean but i mean it all until he does something worse and all hell breaks loose again.
so i just want some comments to give a thumbs up or thumbs down because i need something to fall back on and this is all i have to keep me from killing him.
I painted a picture of my like thought I have yet to see it become a siloette of any means or sorts.
I feel as thought the perfection has long since faded and left a trace of my life in bare ruins as it was tainted grey.
I have him to thank for everything the tears the unhappiness and the anguish that i felt when he was near me at any point in time.
I could feel his presence but in reality i knew that it would never be true that he would ever really be there to watch me as I grew.
Of all the dreams that i had to make it out of the crevice of life that made me feel completely helpless and then again worthless to what i thought to be my aquatinces but in a larger scale collateral it was my unworthiness to the world.
Everything I wasn't is everything i am and everything i am is everything he didn't feel the need to be.
That was it go make me feel bad about my life more so than i already did but that was ok i didn't need to feel that way but i did anyway.
you can take away everything but dignity will still remain and the anguish will be kept inside until the day i am to die which in many of eyes won't be a time direly awaiting inconsistancies.
thanks for the momments daddy thanks for the tears thanks for not being there when i needed you most.
Thanks for never giving me a chance or an "i love you" and you wonder why people do the things they do.
thanks the most for never feeling the respectable need to balance the responsibility of being a father suitable of being loved because to me it wasn't worth my time. I feel that the less love there is the more often you won't suffer the aftershock a hurting and yet brutal pain when i watch you walk away and you don't mean one word that you say
Submission Name: forgotten misted memory
