When I was younger we moved from place to place. I remember, even from a young age, worrying about where we would lay our heads after we left this place. I remember yall being at home a lot but not being around us. I remember you both going into rooms with people, that I met for the first time, and you all spending hours together with a locked door. Sometimes afterwards, I remember staying up late doing crafts and playing games until the clock hit 3am. I remember being able to do pretty much anything I wanted to do. I remember waking up crying and finding comfort that you both where still awake. I remember the house smelling bad. I remember you telling me to lie to social workers about things. Like if there was powders in my house or if I have smelt any bad smells or even about how yall act.
It wasn't until I started getting older that I realized that you both were on drugs. I started to realize that the reason you both where at home is because you did not have a job. I realized that is why we had to move so many times. I realized that you went to your room to hide the drugs from us. We knew they were bad. I realized the new friends that mommy and daddy made were not friends at all but drug dealers and inhibitors.
It took even longer for me to realize that pain pills and maraujana were not the only drugs you where doing. I began to pay attention in class when they spoke to us about drugs. I knew that both of your reactions didn't add up. One day I found a meth pipe wrapped up and hidden in plain sight. I can still feel the anger that rolled out of me that day. I remember wanting to bash it across the wall and walk out. I knew that I'd get hurt by dad if I did that. I walked away and left it.
That's when I realized that the reason you where still up when I woke up from bad dreams is because you could not go to sleep. That when you wanted me to lie about any white substances that is why.
I am not angry at either of you. I am thankful. I have pushed myself. I will continue to push myself. Not only for myself but for my future family.
And mom I am proud of how far you have come in the last 5 years.
No ship goes sailing without sailors
or a crew.
When lighting strikes without warning
It takes hold in many forms
cruel and fast
it invades like a mist
One by one
Destroying the last chapter
cover by cover
The story unfolds
Of the greatest life untold
memories of music
Theses shall never be forgotten.
This life was lived
and continues on
Rest in peace my perfect one.
My father never drank when I was young. Never a bottle in the house. I would be proud to boast "My family doesn't drink"
because I knew my grandfather was an alcoholic
and it tore the family apart
and I know the families in town where the father is an alcoholic
and slowly it all falls apart
but when I was in highschool my dad started keeping beer in the house
which turned to vodka
only once in a while
only to relax
only on the weekends
we all laugh
"It's like you take a shot of the chaser and down it with the vodka!"
When he started drinking at two in the afternoon on vacation
we all laughed
no big deal
It's just to relax
but what i'm afraid of
is that this is how it happened with his own father
that it was all fun
until it wasn't
and it was no big deal
until it was
and they lived in separate houses
and he drank himself to death in a little house alone
When is the line where it all falls?
How do you fix something that is just a joke?
Dear father. Beautiful mother.
Please allow me this opportunity to thank you, but caricature of my decisions needs to be put in place first.
As the days passed me by, long ravenous nights, restless and unaware. You helped me realize that the white lines turned into white lies, the dice I constantly rolled made me a sucker for the rule of threes.
You made me realize that this is not who I was made to be, and I can be a better man I know. I never needed to become a shell of the man I used to or intended to be.
The lines I drew was nothing more than a mark to build a wall, a barrier between myself and candidly company. I've replaced real words and genuine touch with a new best friend and she's called loneliness. I can feel her but touch so fake, I can hear her words but similar to the voice in my head.
So I want to thank you for allowing me to make my own mistakes but never vamoose my side. Just know that I've learned from my mistakes and trying my best to be a better man than yesterday, everyday.
You've raised me with love, clarity, and a soft touch and I need to thank you for that.
I hope you hear this.
I love you.
I am a product of a one night stand which is to say carelessness is in my blood.
My father was a businessman which is to say there is a con man in me.
He worked with wood and nails which is to say I've had saw dust in my blood for as long as I can remember.
My father rarely said "I love you" which is to say his love came in forms of one-handed hugs and gifts I would never need.
My dad had diabetes which caused him to go blind because he just couldn't give up midnight snacks and 2 big macs for lunch everyday.
And after my mom left I would sit with him in our tiny 2 bedroom apartment and play him his favorite songs, and he would still watch TV but I always wondered what he got out of it.
Now all I have left are these unanswered voicemails from him and this nagging feeling of regret that I could have been a better person, that I should have been a better daughter.
Tonight I wanna say
What I couldn't for 17 years,
Say how much I love you
And say you're my superhero;
Our long walks together,
Our late night football matches we watch together,
Are what I live for;
You're struggles are my inspiration,
Making you proud is my ambition;
Thank you for the battles we fought together,
Thank you for being there beside me all along,
Thank you for being the fire in my blood and the blood in my veins,
Thank you for bringing out the best in me,
Thank you for being the best thing I've ever had,
In the end ,
Thank you for being my DAD..
8:30 AM on the way to school
Dad questions my existence.
How can you be sure you’re real?
And this life isn’t planned or constructed?
Who’s really in control?
Haven’t you heard – when people start looking familiar, it’s because God has run out of extras...
The scorched hills roll by in waves under the clear California sky.
Maybe none of it is real. How would you know?
Maybe you’re the subject of a tv show –
And I’m not really your dad.
And I’m just scripted to have this conversation.
Let them see
My fits of crazy
The ugly faces I make in the mirror
My secret tears
And dirty blood
And demented body
And twisted face
And let them know
That I am human.