I am going to admit something here. In pure honesty. I explained this to Nick last night, and cried, and Ive never really spoken it, or wrote it over anything until then and now... Im bitter. Im mad about my dads death in so many weird, and deep ways. Im mad because it happened. Because he had a horrible disease. Im mad because I had to watch the disease kill him slowly. Im mad because it happened right in the middle of me coming into my own, as an adult. I was still a child, but slowly finding my comfort in easing in as an adult. Im mad because he missed, and is going to miss all these important events in my life. Im mad because it was MY dad.

But, Im also mad because of who he was before he was sick. Im mad because he became a better father because he was sick and on his death bed. Im mad that sickness forced him into change, almost. Im mad because he never made the decision himself. Im mad because he cause this anxiety in me. Im mad because he caused this paranoia. Im mad because he caused this anger...

I can never forget, and I am always flooded with memories, and, though it may seem to be untrue to most who gingerly glance in my direction, deep, and hurting emotion. I am surprised I can even keep it all in. I find myself getting mad for nothing, or everything all together. I pick fights with Chris, or Nick, or anyone who comes in my path. And I cry. And I cry. And I cry. And still, I feel that anger. And in those moments where Im fighting my fights about "relationships and such" with Chris, I am, all the while, picturing my father. Thinking about my father. Imagining past experiences. Memories. The like.

I hate this anger fueling me.

I do not ever want to forget my father. But its as if I am forced between a rock and a hard place. No one wants to think of their deceased loved one, or picture them in your daydreams, in their illness. But picturing my father healthy is like picturing my scary childhood, and a monster.

But when I picture him sick....and dare I say this, as I type, and Cry and feel guilty about what I am about to write......I am also picturing something also close to a monster. I dont know what I would rather want. The thoughts, and mental pictures of my father sick....are enough to frighten me into waking up at nights in cold sweats. When he was alive I could barely stay in the house. It was too much. He looked nothing like...himself. Emaciated, and hollowed out. Skeletal images is all I can see. I am so haunted. I just want to close my eyes but I cant because I am too afraid Ill see him standing their. Behind my eyelids. Living in the muscles, and blood flow. Waiting for me to stay with him, just once, like I couldnt do when he was alive...because I was too afraid.

Im a mess.