If I was going to jump. If I was going to end my life, then this is how I would do it.
None of that waiting and standing on the edge just hoping for someone to notice me and cry out.
Nobody looking at me with their arm stretched out to pull me back from the edge.
I would run. I would run and jump.
He's so close to me yet so far away.
I'm looking at him and he's looking at me.
There's maybe only a foot or two between our cars but it might as well have been a mile.
I open my mouth and say out loud...
of all the things I've seen, it's you I want to keep seeing...
Too bad he couldn't hear me.Too bad he can't read lips.
Too bad I couldn't bring myself to get in his car to tell him...
But mostly...too bad because I drove away from him.
Whenever I see father-daughter interactions, I feel a sense of strange longing. I didn't see a lot of my father growing up as a child since he definitely is one of those men that needs to work constantly. I'm grateful that he has since he has provided more than enough for my mother and my siblings and have put all of us through school without a problem. Yet...there is a part of me that aches for that part of my childhood that so many take for granted.
I don't ever recall my father giving me a piggy back ride because my legs hurt or because I fell and scratched my knee. My older brother taught me how to ride a bicycle and broke apart his piggy bank to buy me a popsicle when someone stole my scooter. Whenever I see a child sitting on the shoulders of his father, so high above the heads of the other adults, I can't help but wish I had the same thing. Many years later when my boyfriend carried me on his shoulders, I thought of how this is how it must feel to be so high up in the sky feeling totally secure.
While I missed out on those little things, my father did bless me with trips to Europe where I ate crusty baguette in Paris, and sipped on his German beer while grimacing. While he missed out on birthdays he was there with a brand new car when I graduated high school and was more than willing to drive 8 hours to come help me move into my apartment for college.
He was there for the big moments of my life and I appreciate it. I just wish he had shared more of the little things with me
I’ve sunk into this perpetual state of being hopelessly defeated. And I don’t know how to stop.
I run every other day in the brisk morning air and take in my surroundings. I eat healthy, and occasionally give myself a sweet treat. Is there any greater joy than a warm cup of tea with a chocolate chip cookie? I try to keep in contact with my friends and have my fill of laughter and bonding over a good meal. Everything is mostly okay.
But something isn't right. I feel hollow and distant from everything. I don't feel rooted to anything. Where is my anchor?
"stop being so sad" he tells me
i can't seem to figure out if the words are supposed to comfort me
or maybe he means to leave me feeling gutted like road kill
there are 31 days in January. he's told me he's leaving 3 times.
maybe 4. i don't remember
1 is a lonely number
i don't suppose you still have
that little something i let you borrow
1 year and 8 months ago
"stop trying to be so brave" he tells me
i guess the answer is no