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It's too deep, this emotion called love..

Okay, so Kir got me thinking of Fathers, and well, I remembered a snippet of the song my dad wrote for me when I was 4 or 5. It goes something like this:

                                                            Saw my little sunspot
                                                            Running through the meadow
                                                            Trailing a string of pearls behind her shoulder
                                                            She don't think she's lovely
                                                            But I know she makes the sun shine everyday


I wish I could make the sun shine again in his life. He works as a truck driver delivering loads of various supplies to companies all over the US, and all he has for company is his cat, Lil' Bit. I see in him a sadness that makes me pity him, yet I'm still resentful of him because of what he did to me and my mum and sister. I never told anyone this before, but when he found out my sister Alisha was pregnant, he slammed her against the wall and told her she was a whore, that he didn't ever want to see her darken his doorstep again. But I also remember the times he tried to be a good father, like when he would take us to the drive-in movie theatre in Coldwater, or tuck us into bed by singing us our songs. My memories of him are bittersweet, because mixed in with the good ones are the bad, all the hitting and yelling, him calling me a liar when I first started hearing voices in my head, that sort of thing. When he found out I was slitting my wrists (which he didn't even know I was doing it until like three years after I started) he said something to the effect that my mother must have cheated on him because there was no way he could have produced a psychopath like that for a daughter. I think he was truly afraid of me at that point, which made me want to hurt myself more, because all I wanted was for someone to reach out and hold me, tell me it was okay to feel alone, afraid, and utterly out of control, that they loved me anyway.

Ah, if wishes were horses, beggars would indeed ride though, wouldn't they? I got the support I needed from my online friends, even if ninety percent of them don't talk to me anymore. They were there when I needed them, and that's what's important. So now you know all about my illustrious past with my father, and why I feel the way I do. Cheers.

Love,
Tawn

::insert:: I *finally* got AIM to download, so please, IM me anytime!!!! SexayTawni, and you can email me by the same name @ aim.com or Salennia_jjj @ yahoo.com

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