forthebook's Diaryland Diary


some nights i call it a draw

When I want to let myself feel bad about my dad I do three things: I watch that goddamn story line in Grey's Anatomy where George's dad dies, I read the blog I wrote the night before he died, and I read the one I wrote a few months afterward.

After a few drinks, of course.

I'm not sure why this Thanksgiving is hitting harder than usual. Maybe because I didn't have G's family to do a normal event with? I did go to C's house with her, the husband, and her parents. And it was good. I love her parents too. It was just sad afterward though. I went home ("home" I guess) and cried. Because everything is so messy and up in the air right now. And I don't want to see my mom even more than usual. I try so hard to make things stable for myself. For times like these. And it just feels like such a waste of time sometimes. I think I am excited to live by myself for the first time. I crave that solitude and independence sometimes. But maybe I'm still scared? Maybe I think it's just one more thing I'll fail at? Maybe I don't want to live in one more place where my dad never was.

Sometimes I worry I'm starting to forget things about him. Or I wonder all the time lately if he would like the way I'm living my life. If he would have noticed that I drink my coffee and my gin and eat my eggs the way he did. Or if I would do any of those things if he was actually still alive. What would he tell me about how I treat my mom. Would he understand or intervene. Would he care if I was getting this stupid master's degree? What shows would we be watching together and is this why I don't watch any crime procedurals anymore? Who would have been the guy I dated that he liked the best? Would I have married any of them by now if I wasn't such a broken person inside?

7:31 p.m. - 2018-11-25


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