more than i like writing itself
i take comfort in thinking about what i can write
and the sheer possibilities of a blank piece of paper
but trying to follow up on what my mind wants
and how the words actually come out
always falls short of the truth

maybe one day when i'm dead
they will all go through this journal
and reminisce about the life i led
and the things i thought about
the things that concerned me most
the things i liked to do
the people i liked to be with
what made me sad
what made me angry
what made me human.

maybe they'll ask themselves why i wrote
was she crying out for help
was she seeking attention
what kind of message was she trying to send
what was she looking for, what was she trying to accomplish?

maybe they will publish some of my poems or entries posthumously
as an homage to whatever memory i will leave behind
maybe they'll try to dissect the words, try to uncover some truth about my character
but however much they try to search for the real me
in these words
they won't find me
no, you'll never find me
i will be gone
and this is all you will have left
pieces of a life lost like many others before me.

if one day you find this
please tell everyone not to worry
i tried my best to be a good person
that is all any of us could ever really do.

where i feel better about everything already but it seems so far in the distance that there's no point to even thinking about it, i hate the state of how things are now and i hate how i am. my tear ducts fill up with hot liquid behind my eyes but nothing comes out, nothing. i'm angry, maybe i'm at that angry state of the 7 stages of grieving but really i'm just more sad than anything else. incredibly sad, and i can't do anything about it. he wouldn't want me to be sad i know, but it's just so unfair that i can't help it. i still can't believe he's gone, i can picture him so clearly coming home, coming through that front door with luggage and presents for all of us and his big smile and i just want to throw my arms around him and say i missed you, dad, i'm glad you're finally here, but i will never get a chance to say that ever again.

today is his birthday and earlier my relatives were over and we ate a lot of food, said a lot of prayers, now it's night time and it's only my mom's relatives and friends here, still eating, still having a good time but i can't. i don't like the sound of them laughing. i wish i was addicted to something, at least that way i could focus on something else other than the all encompassing sadness and loneliness that comes with it all. so much paperwork. so many problems. i don't wanna deal with any of it. i don't wanna talk to anyone. i don't want anyone to help me. i don't think anyone really can. i know no one can really save me, nothing anyone can say can bring him back and this is all beyond repair, i don't know what to do anymore.

this has been a shitty year. i want it to be over.

gotta get better. gotta take care of a lot of stuff. everything's a mess, my room, my dad's room, all his paperwork, all the stuff he's left behind. this year couldn't be over fast enough. thursday would have been my dad's 53rd birthday. next week is christmas. i really don't want to deal with any of this stuff right now, or ever. quit my job, i've stopped worrying about money for the moment but i'm going to have to again soon enough. i haven't spent this much time lying in bed in a long long time. body is achy, head hurts, i feel like my body doesn't belong to me anymore.

i feel like turning around
and think maybe you'll be in the kitchen
just making coffee
and asking me what i'm up to

the sun still goes up every morning
and it goes down every evening without you
i can't make it stop
i still manage to get sleep in
still put food in my stomach
but when i close my eyes
its hard to see the point of it all

the human body is capable of a lot more pain than i thought

i still feel you here
i'm not afraid, dad