A Thank You to The Half-Absent Father

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I want to start by saying thank you. If it wasn’t for your consistent inconsistency and poor life decisions I’m not sure what kind of person I would have turned out to be. I want to take a moment to reflect on the valuable life lessons you taught me very early on in life. Continue reading

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The Early Introduction

GirlHidingFace_iStock_000015276345LargeI will not waste your time with the early and non important events of my story. What I will tell you is that I am now writing to you as an adult, this being written to show you, the reader that you are blessed, in life and love, and that you cannot take anything for granted. I was young when my life changed into some form of a disaster, something like an earthquake, my world was ever changing and I was helpless to stop it.

Closed.

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“Why are you so closed off?” “You have this huge wall up, I’m almost afraid you’re becoming that wall.” “You are just so cold, why?” These questions are being asked more and more frequently. I’m at a point where I know what I’m doing, but I can’t seem to get out of the funk. I feel myself closing up, and when it happens I can’t do anything but think; “Damn, I’m doing it again.”

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The End?

Lost-in-the-stormSeptember 11th, 2009, it’s been 8 years since the twin towers had fallen, on every television channel the only thing showing are people calling out the names of lost loved ones. I sit at the breakfast table listening for as long as I can possibly stand. The weather outside, rainy as usual, it fits the mood of the day perfectly. After finishing my breakfast my phone begins to ring, it’s my mother, she sounds as if she’s crying, like someone is hurt, or dead. Continue reading

The Dream

dark stageThere he is, on the stage of an abandoned auditorium. I can see nothing but darkness until I light the lantern I packed with me. I can only see the shadow of his face as the flame of the lantern flickers. There he is; I have him right where I want him. I cannot take my eyes off of him; I am amazed at how I have gotten him here, how I had the strength to get him here without a struggle. Tied to a chair, his arms and legs tied tightly, and he is silent.  He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, and doesn’t try to run. He’s just there, and my plan is all coming together. Suddenly the curtains open, and the stage becomes bright as day, all of the spot lights come on, and there she is! My mom! Here she is, with me, to do the job, to finish him once and for all. Continue reading

Because maybe we aren’t all the same…

www.coolnstylishdp.blogspot (2)I wasn’t kidnapped or given up for adoption, although sometimes I wish I was. I never had to figure out who my real parents were, even though most of the time I wish I never knew. I wasn’t starved but instead forced to eat the entire plate that was put in front of me before being excused from the table. I never experience a children’s shelter, but I always thought it would be better than where I was, in a glorified prison.

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