nineteen

I worked out. 

Had breakfast. 

Smoked. 

Slept more. 

Woke again. 

Trying not to lose my mind.

~

I am seeing my dad today, and I just want to talk to you.

 We haven't had a real conversation since Thursday, 

and I'm trying to tell myself that it doesn't matter, 

but it does.

 It does to me. 

Everything matters to me.

I care so much. 

I care about everything.

I care about you.

 I just want to talk 

and talk and talk and talk 

to you about nothing. 

And smoke and smoke and smoke.

~

How could you do this? How could you be so fucking inconsiderate and irresponsible? I didn't speak many words to you tonight, if any at all (this one if probably more true), but I saw you. Looks like you've gone all the way back to where you started. You are getting close to 40 fucking years old. You have 2 children to look after and care for, does that not even cross your mind? And even when you try to do that, you still fail. I know you only went to the game because you thought I might show up. Otherwise, I'm sure you would have missed his big game for her thousandth one. The whole time you were talking about her instead, when her game started, etc. Don't you know the meaning of balance? Don't you have a paternal bone in your body? How could you do this again? Why? 

I am worried for them.

I am worried for Jesse, especially.

He's the first tiny human who turned me into a real big sister. 

And I think he'll always be my favorite.

And you? 

You'll never be anything but a let down. 

You make me sick.

Grow up.