Thursday, June 24, 2004

Well, I almost made it a whole week without crying. I thought, If I can make it a week, I can make it a month. And if I could make it a month, I can make it two months. But yeah--I broke down today. It turns out that Mark left me a few of his shirts and his favorite sweats for me to have. I was putting two of the shirts on Christopher (Mark always wore two T-shirts at a time. One solid colored one and one with a picture or logo or whatever) and I, of course, just had to see if they smelled like Mark. They totally did. It brought back memories. Moslty the way he smelled, but also the times when I would smell him. I know that sounds weird--but I mean times like hugs and stuff. My little sister was in the room, so when I felt the sobbing coming on, I calmly went to my walk-in closet and knelt down and quietly cried. In case you're wondering who Christopher is and not focusing on the important part of the story--Christopher is the Teddy Bear Mark gave me for Valentine's Day this year. I named it Christopher because that's Mark's middle name and I always name stuffed animals after the people who give them to me. Anyway, enough about Mark.

I'm having a lazy day today. As usual. I haven't really done much lately. It's seven thirty and I'm still in my pajamas. That's disgusting. Don't worry though, I plan on taking a shower after I'm done with this. Eew. I can't even stand my own self.

Guess who wrote to me today? My good for nothing sorry excuse for a Father. I haven't seen him since I was thirteen. That will be five years this November. What a jerk. So he writes me and is like "Hey thanks for the pictures. You're a beautiful young woman. Everyone who has seen the pictures thinks so too. I've been working a lot lately. Sweating my A** off. Anyway, I gotta go. Believe it or not, I love you." and then he signs it "Tom T" or something. This is the first time I have heard from him in a month or two. Maybe longer. (1)If I hadn't sent him pictures, the most recent vision he would have of me would be me in like seventh grade because he doesn't care enough to visit. (2)He has to convince me that he "really does love me". (3)He is such a stranger that he doesn't even sign it "Dad" or anything like that. Just his name. Like any other letter. Because I'm just another recipient. Those are the three reasons why my dad sucks. Whatever. His loss. One day he's going to realise that he missed out big time. He doesn't even know me. He doesn't even TRY to know me. That's okay. When my kids ask about my dad, I'll tell them I never had one. Because that's the truth.

*Imported from my first blog on*

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