fuck I hate how once someone dies they just.. talk so greatly about the person. was he really all that? Am I really derived from a greek god of humor? I just want to know the truth, I want to know him as a person, I just want to know what it's like to look behind you and see him standing there, saying "You got it, champ!"
Why can't I learn to ride a bike with his hands guiding, only to let go as I get the pedals right? Why can't I learn to drive a stick shift with him making remarks on how I'll never get it until I finally do? Why can't I experience all these fucking things kids do with their dads. Power tools, sports, knowledge on technology, shit like that. I have no idea how any of it works. The absolute fucking worst is when you're standing there, clueless, with drill in hand, staring at a board and someone walks by,
"Didn't your dad teach you how to do this?"
fuck you fuck you fuck you no he didn't okay? No one did. I was raised by my mom alone. Fuck you for reminded me of my loss. Fuck you for bringing my emotional pain and discomfort right to the top, after I have shoved it down for so long, after so many years. I hate you.