Again. My hand is recovering from the garage door that was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Truth is. I lost my dad. When he passed, those teachings of putting my hands in my pockets, I didn’t want to. I’m mad. I’m hurt. I’m so fucking hurt.

He left and when he did, he left all of us to fill in the blanks of his chaotic mind. To deal with the distraction he had laid for years. I see things that I would have never gotten away with happening. I’m hearing words I never wanted to know and I’m fighting with people who have zero reason to fight at all.

Retirement. It’s not ours. It’s dad’s. He told my mom to stay home for me. He told her that he wanted her home.

So she was home.

Now my sister is trying to take that retirement because she doesn’t “feel” like my mom deserves it. Feelings. What a complicated thing to navigate through.

My feelings are hurt. No one cares. Empty promises. Confident lies. Word vomit coming from all ends.

When will it end?

I say that when he left, he put it in perspective. I watched my dad die. He quit. He got everything he wanted in those 3 days and then said, “see you on the other side”. Gone.

Bullshit. He left. I want to leave! Why can’t I go too?

Wrath is here and I’m War. Who will win? The Red Horse or one of the 7 Sins?

I just want to go home. I just want home to be mine.

I don’t want to be here anymore reaching for people who pull their hands back as soon as you reach. I’m tired of being a sob story and I’m exhausted from forcing myself to be in these relationships. I can fake a lot of things but I can’t fake this. I’m drowning. I’m burned out. I’m exhausted and everything needs to stay away from me. I’m volatile.

I’m scaring myself… again.