It’s been four years now since you suddenly passed, and today feels just the same as that night when I got the call from the county coroner’s office. There is a pressure in my core that perpetually swells, filling me with anxiety and emptiness.

Things could have been better growing up. They always could have, and I harbored an unwarranted resentment towards you. But I was a kid and I didn’t fully understand everything. Even as a young adult, things took their time making sense. Once I was married and gifted you your first grandchild, things changed and the threads of healing were finally being sewn.

Then you fucking left. Heart attack they say, and you were gone before the paramedics even arrived. It may be cliche, but there was so much more that I needed from you, Dad. Namely, how to handle this crippling depression I inherited from you. Because leaving like that, yeah, it fucked me up more than normal. Despite being surrounded by my own family under my charge, I have never felt so alone. This is the fourth year in a row my wife forgot about today, and the fourth year I have to pretend like I’m okay because it’s not okay to not be okay.

I’m spiraling and can’t stop it. I love you and I miss you so damn much. I needed more time and it was stolen from me. I’ve tried releasing this anger and resentment, but I just can’t. So I bury it and forget it for a while until it decides to rise to the surface. I don’t even know who or what it is directed at. Only that it is eating ferociously at my sanity. I am overwhelmed with the feeling that I need to be where you are at all costs, wherever you may be. And some day, I’ll likely make the journey. Not just because I miss you, but because wherever you are is a hell of a lot better than this nightmarish cesspool we call Earth.

I miss you

God dammit Jim.
Why did you take yourself away from us? Why did you have to end your life? Why didn’t you reach out when I was leaving our apartment and say “No, I need your help.”? Did you see your mom breaking apart as she was carrying a little pine box with her youngest son’s ashes in? Did you see her last goodbye to you? Did you see my pain, my shattering the half empty wine bottle against the unfeeling asphalt because it hurt so bad and I still couldn’t scream and cry out for you? Did you see Nick when he texted me the news? Your brother when he confirmed to me that it was suicide? Your dad unable to work?
Please. I miss you. If you are out there somewhere, let me know you’re doing better.

Binging so bad

I am so done binging. It is making me sick, so sick that I could die from obesity in the long run.

It has been 15 days now. 15 days. I have binged every single night. I haven’t been able to stop, and each time that I get close, he stares at me the wrong way or wants to pick a fight, and I want to scream FUCK YOU!!!!

I am a rebellious teenager all over again who does not want to ha e sex with their partner.

I hat him. I fuxkong hate him. I want a divorce, but I love him too much to ask him for one.

God damn!