maybe i am how i am because i slept under my bed as a child, maybe the monsters made their way into my head while i slept dreaming of ice cream and playgrounds

or maybe i am how i am because God stopped listening a long time ago

or maybe i am how i am because he killed himself two summers ago and i couldn't go to his funeral

or maybe i am the way i am because i have to dust off my dad's TOMBSTONE because i now realize people leave and stop caring but i CAN'T.
I can't.