Rational irrationality

I am angry, and in my head it js for a very valid reason.

I am angry and no amount of “your being unfair” is going to fix it.

I am angry and your anger will only ignite it.

Today is my daughters birthday. My pride and joy is turning four years old.

Yet to me it was a horrible day.

She did have a really good day but it hurt to hear all these excues to why people didn’t call to talk to her.

Not as though anyone makes time for her most any other day but I thought people would try to make an effort to speak to her. Those who did called later on in the day. Late late at night when any other day she woukd have been preparing for bed.

I understand that people work and what not but seriously. No one could call before work? Are lunch breaks not a thing? She is four. She doesnt care if you call long enough to even just sing her happy birthday. Rarely does she ever want to sit on the phone for longer than five mins. Yet no one…no one called her during reasonable hours. Only two people had a valid excuse and even they called pretty. Her aunts,uncles,cousin,father, grandparents no one called her.

Yet those who do not share her blood made time for her. They helped me throw her an amazing party. They got her presents she will cherish greatly ( for the next few months or so)

People started flooding in with their love and well wishes after I made a post for not calling, but again this was people who didn’t share her blood.

My best friends…my supposed best friends said nothing.

I can’t help but hate the world right now for this very simple reason.

Whether I am being rational or not is not something I care about at this moment.

I know it is silly but right now I feel…betrayed. Yes betrayed because I always try to be there for others and yet no one seems to care about the most important person to me. Damn my birthday and other memorable events.

It is her day. The celebration of her life and how dare they say they love and care for her when they can’t even make time out of theirs to check up on her.

I am so done with everything.

She still had a good day but I will remember this.

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Listen and repeat

I want to show you that I love you

Is there a way in which I can do this?

One day I got sick. Nothing to bad but bad enough to were I couldn’t get out of bed without experiencing some pain. Being a single parent, an illness like this can be hard to deal with.

My child understood I was sick but not why every time I moved I suddenly wanted to cry or why I sat on the couch most of the day.

She always plays even when she is sick and wanted me to do the same. So I had to work through my pain and be there for her. Even when I just wanted to lay down and sleep. I still made all of her meals, watched tv, and played games with her.

I wanted to give up and sleep so bad though. At one point I actually did fall asleep. My daughter stayed by my side the whole time playing on my phone.

I felt like such a monster when I woke up. How could I fall asleep while my child was awake???

But what could I do?

I had no one who could watch her. The last time I went to the hospital over an illness they called CPS cause I didn’t have anyone to watch her while I went to the emergency room and was potentially admitted. So that was out of the question.

Basically I was forced to parent through my illness (which was food poisoning by the way my. My daughter didn’t get it cause she doesn’t eat meat and I was experimenting)

I think most parents, even many single parents, do not think about stuff like this.

How they will go about things sick and without help.

I once knew of a family where both mother and child were wheelchair bound. Do people understand how difficult that is?

Not many.

We take things for granted all the while judging others for not being just like us.

Sitting in the battle field

Grabbed the man I tried to kill

Looked in the eye and questioned why

Why must we go through life

With blinders in our eyes

Looking forward in days on end

Thinking naught of those who stand

Beside us as we crawl on by

Judge them harshly for choices unknown

As though we do have to make our own

Standing on the battle field

Clutching the hand of the man I tried to kill

Asking God for the reason why

Taking this life was seen as right

What made him beneath me

What made it so we can’t see

Those who stand Beside as

As we crawl through people we can’t see

Bloody hands are grasping me

Eyes clenched but begging me

What gives us the right to what life

Is worth less then another’s

We go through life breathing

Deceiving those who stand close by

Ignoring them with all out might

But judging them if they come within sight

Walking across the battle field

I can no longer feel a thing

Ask and answer

I often ask myself silly questions I would not dare bring up to anyone else.

Thing that make me blush or smile. Things that make me cry awhile.

I ask myself these things because they help me feel alive.

For awhile I have the will to survive.

What kind of future will she have?

Will I be there or will I be dead?

How can I make her happy?

How will she feel if I hold her on my lap, even when she is 20?

I ask myself because I can.

I ask myself so that I may continue till the end.

Letters to a Father

I can no longer remember your face.

When I was younger you where there. Not always there¬†but a little thought in the back of my mind. I HATED how you came around when you felt like it. I know you told me it was my moms fault you weren’t constant, but till this day I do not believe that to be fact.

Just like you said how you number never changed, nor did my grandmothers, you could have called her any day. Found out where we where and took us away. Do you know how much pain we went through?

No, I guess not since you never bothered with us. Just made excuse after excuse.

Dear Dad , I do not remember you. I do bot remember your voice, your smile, your eyes. I Do remember your anger and your lies.

I guess it is my fault I hold on to such a grudge but I made the mistakes of my mother and laid with someone I didn’t love.

Now I have a daughters whose father she don’t know. She don’t know his face, his eyes, the way he smiles over silly things. No all she remembers is the pain of him never being around.

Broken promise after promise.

Sounds familiar to me now.

Dear Dad, I hate you.

But I guess you knew that.

Or maybe you didn’t because you delude yourself into thinking I was never created. I am just a figment of your demented imagination.

Do you know my favorite color or my favorite song? Do you remember my best friends name or what first made us get along? I told you all this a million times but did you listen?

I wish you had left me spattered on the bed sheets but then I wouldn’t have my baby girl.

Dear Fuckbutt, I despise you.

How dare you do her like he do. She deserves so much better than some well wishes. She fucking deserves her fathers kisses. I do not need no imagined truths. Tell her what you post online, don’t you know she needs you???

Wrote a letter to my father but inside I meant you.

Dearest Papa

Dearesr PaPa,

Do you even miss me? I spend most of my days wishing all is well for…but I can’t seem to bring myself to finish that half truth.

I don’t wish you well I wish you hell.

You left me when I needed you. No, I take that back.

To be fair, you were never truly there. Just a shadow of what could be. Of what should be.

Dearest papa, do you know how much I have cried.

Bet you would care if I drowned in my tears at night.

I do try, I truly do, to wish you well in your days.

A random status update

I have never been good at dealing with the death of a loved one. I have often found myself to be the only person openly crying at funerals. As everyone is floating around and celebrating, I was always the one calming talking to the body as though they could still hear me. The one everyone felt that needed to baby due to my delicate nature. 

It is funny though cause I actually celebrate death. I do not pretend to be happy with a passing. Instead I let myself feel sad. I do not hade behind perfect smile and tell everyone thanks for coming. No I kneel and allow the person I have lost know I love and will always remember them. I celebrate death once I have grieved.

Not to say smiles or laughter at a funeral should not happen cause they should. I just don’t do it. 

I am not very religious, but despite how some of my poems may seem, I love religion of all kinds. Including Christianity.  I may not follow all the teachings but I do not find it horrible. 

So I can understand how something that is something  we need to sing about. 

I am just quieter…..

Still….

I wish people would stop seeing my tears as a weakness. I wish they would talk to me. Let me tell them that sure I am crying, but I will be on in time. 

Why do people hide death from me? Treat like a little flower who needs to be protected? Has anyone read my poems and stories??? Seriously, I will be ok. Just give me time. Let me vent, let me grieve in my own way. 

Blocked Heart

In my home there is a closet that houses the true me. The side not many see for fear that they will leave. Inside this closet, so tall and dark, lies a chest where I have locked up my heart. I pass it often to and hear the beating within. I ignore so my true self won’t win. See it wants out. It is not afraid. It wants to show the world who I truly am. I fight everyday, trying to keep it all inside. Making sure the key is always in my sight. One day I got distracted and someone wheedled themselves in. Took my heart from me and tried to keep it with them. I tried to fight them hurt them in every way I could. But they where strong and never gave up. They say my true self and never judged. Oh did it hurt, to be this bare. To have someone know, to have them always there. Always watching, always listening, always talking, so much noise. I felt like I lost a life I never allowed myself to leave. The true me was content though; my heart was loved. My body may have felt shamed but my heart was loved.

To this very day I fight them. I want it back, while I am happy, I still crave the hate. It is easier to bear. Easier than dealing with this unknown love and having someone there.