Let me clear something up from the last time I wrote. My dad is not off in Bora Bora with some hot chick that’s sucking his dick while he smokes a Cuban cigar. No.
My dad killed himself.
Five years ago actually. Just out of nowhere, there was a gunshot in my parent’s room. No warning. No note. Nothing.
Just blood. Everywhere.
My mom screamed.
My sister screamed.
Me? Not really. I was just...frozen. I couldn't do anything.
I was sad, yes. Oh man was I depressed. I mean, I just lost my brother a few months before, and now my dad? But I had to go on with my life. Because everybody else did.
Dad was gone. I couldn’t let myself be drug down to the pits of grief hell while the world I wasn’t even apart of whizzed by.
Even at eleven, I understood that people killed themselves because they were hurting some kind of way. We were all hurting, and that was my dad's way of dealing with it.
It was a very fucking stupid way to deal with it. I mean, I hate him. He was only thinking of JJ, not me, or Tessa, or mom. It's like he didn't love us enough to stick around. But we're better off without him anyway.
Fuck. I'm crying.
YOU ARE READING
M.J.
Teen FictionWARNING: THIS JOURNAL BELONGS TO A VERY SENSITIVE PERSON WITH SOME REALLY FUCKED UP STUFF GOING ON. DON'T READ BEYOND THIS PAGE UNLESS YOU WANT TO BE TRAUMATIZED. A/N There may be some triggering shit in here so look out. Kay have fun reading
