lillian m. blakey moon_window




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Sunlight on Earth

� Copyright 2006-2012
Thursday, Jul. 02, 2015 - 9:08 pm

=*=


I have officially sunk into honest, real, painful depression...that I cannot fight. I don't want to go out, but when I do force myself i am seeking nay hint of human kindness...and I don't want to stay inside, but when i am inside I feel vulnerable and broken.

Being fucked over by social services agencies didn't stop with June...it is continuing into July.

my summer class is going to hell, because it's really hard to care about homework. I've managed 5 weeks now, but i am not so sure about these last 3.

And my dad wrote to me. He still cannot spell, made worse by the fact that he also cannot type.

I was 17 when i last spoke with him, he would call 20-30 times in a row, leaving messages until the answering machine was full. When I finally talked to him, to ask him to please stop, I remember the anger and panic in his voice, telling me he was going to come after me and kill me for refusing to speak with him. He never understood no matter how many times I told him, over and over, that I couldn't handle talking to him when he was high...I would later find out what he was on when he got arrested for being under the influence of methamphetamine.

It has been 18 years since i last spoke with him or had any direct contact.

He wrote to tell me he knows that I know he is dying, and he asks my forgiveness.

The thing is there is nothing to forgive, I am just so fucking broken over the fact that I will never have him be the person I need him to be in my life. I cut off contact because I couldn't handle watching someone I love so much hurting themselves the way he did. He didn't just use drugs, it was a continual attempt at trying to overdose and to die, which he did successfully numerous times. He was resuscitated, had heart attacks from overdosing, etc.

And now at 62 he is dying because of his huffing, because he really loved huffing glue and paint, not because he is old, not even from the heroin or meth, but from all of the times he tried to die y huffing he now has one lung working at half capacity...and he shouldn't fucking be dying at 62 years old.

How do you tell someone who is dying that...i am just trying to accept that all the times he wanted to die he is finally getting what he always wanted...and i'm trying to be okay with this. TO let go of who I need him to be in my life, and to let go of of my childish dreams and being a daddy's girl who never had a daddy because he loved drugs more.

I'm just a big fucking puddle of snot and tears and a heart that is cracking into a million pieces.

~e

=*= one day i'll fly away =*=

most recent entries:

waving white flags - Wednesday, Sept. 27, 2017

yeah so, stuff is happening... - Monday, Sept. 18, 2017

my mind is on the blink - Tuesday, Sept. 12, 2017

How stupid of me - Saturday, Sept. 09, 2017

finally breaking down - Monday, Sept. 04, 2017