I want you dead... Dad.I don't want their sympathy. It doesn't bother me if he's terminal. Sometimes I'll tell them I want him to die just to wipe that stupid expression off their face. Only later, when alone and within the company of a blade, do I spin the snapshot album of memories through my mind and allow them to reassure me.More Like This
Another bad day. More negative thoughts. I don't think I care anymore. Just another section of wasted time spent time witnessing my father's battle with the unreachable and melancholic demons of sobriety and consciousness. That line sounds a lot nicer than it feels. As I write my fingertips are touching broken glass, my mind hurts. And I'