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Sep 2015
Breathe, breathe.

Count to ten, count to ten.

Stare at the clock, watch the hands move.

I'm nervous, the room is quiet, I'm waiting outside, waiting for my new born son to arrive. Thoughts collide in and out of my head. The doctor calls me in and said "let's meet your new baby boy" I held him for the first time and stared at my wife, "honey look our own bundle of joy"

She laughs with tears in her eyes, he's finally arrived.


Breathe, breathe


Another drink, another drink

Stare at the walls till they fade

Its been a year now and the only place you can find me is at the bottom of a bottle or on the couch, my wife and I don't even sleep in the same bed, my drunken thoughts collide in and out my head, that baby has stolen everything from me and I'm so angry.

Jesus Christ, my vices have become my new religion and resentment has become the pavement of this road I'm walking and the devil is stalking right behind, to pour me another glass of liquor so I never have a sober moment, I'll sit still with no movement.

Breathe, breathe

Another beer, another beer


State through the windshield of my truck that's in front of the garage we call home.

More years have flew by, I lost my job and I lost our home, my two kids have no true roof over their head, they just have a mother who works endlessly to fulfill their every dream. What am I doing to my family? God, if you're their why have you forsaken me? I just can't let go of this bottle it's my only home but I'm so alone, I have nothing to show for this "home" it's boarded up windows and ***** floors, what sickening entity have I absorbed?
Constant thoughts of suicide have finally arrived.


Breathe, breathe

Another bottle, another bottle

I'll sit in the garage of the new house we bought and drink myself to death.

Its been 10 years now, drunk and angry my son acts playfully "it's late what are you doing up?" He just wants to spend time with dad, I can't shake the feeling of being drunkly mad, so a hit to his face should make him go away or maybe, if I tell him I hate him he won't stay. Fight after fight, with my wife she files for divorce, of course I try to fight back but I don't have what it takes all I do is lack so I pack my stuff and head out the door, my bones are rotting to the core, I'm fine I'll just head to the store and by a pack.

Breathe, breathe


Another pill, another pill

I stare at the mirror, at who I've become.

I'm sick, alcohol never did the trick.

I'm sick and my best friends are prozac,  xanax, acetaminophen and dextromethorphan..when I did become an orphan? This despondent skin I call home isΒ blistering in the winds of the winter, so please just let me wither, in this ****** weather, because whether or not I wanna save myself, my mind is tethered.Β 

I cannot fathom, how I miss my family but tore them apart individually and entirely.

All I ask is you forgive me while trying to forget me.
my fathers perspective.
Tristen
Written by
Tristen  San Antonio, Texas
(San Antonio, Texas)   
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