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well its been fiva year. today I got drunk. I experienced a tabernacle of emotion. Most daysI get by without a thought. However I find myself pondering the samequestion.. why? My dad felt so empty that he thought taking his life was the best option. Maybe it was? maybe he knew somethong about the afterlife we dont. some would say coward, Im begging to think fearless. I miss him sometimes. 5 years, dad. do you protect me from harm? I like to think so.

Lithium and a suicide note.


I can't remeber the last time I've posted. I guess I could look, but I have so much to say but so little energy to say it.. but I need to get it out of myself.

Brittney and I have been rocky for some time now. Brittney is bipolar... unmedicated. Lately she has been going a little nuts. I havent been very present. I have been so afraid to let her get close. I keep thinking 'I've been through this once, why do I need to go through it again?'
This weekend has been the 2nd worst weekend of my life.

It started with me ex, Tom, coming for a surprise visit on Friday (I worked a 12 hr shift that day). Brit and I were napping at the apartment after having, an already, stressful week. Tom called and told me he sent a package and that it was down stairs. I was like huh? So I through a sweatshirt on and sure enough, he was standing there. I was excited about visitiing with him, but knew what kind of battle I would be having with Brit for having him there. I decided to tell her he was here and decided it would be less akward and best for the situation if I just went someplace with Tom for a while without her. Brittney was very uncomfortable with this and lost control of her emotions. I left the house to get away from it. I couldn't handle the situation. I called about a half hour later and apologized for the way I handled the situation and told her I would com pick her up. When I picked her up, her mood changed completely. She went from screaming and crying on the phone to calm and collected. The evening went smoothly and strangely ok. Tom picked up mass amounts of alcohol and we all got smashed in my apartment.

The next day I had to work a 10 hour shift. I recieved texts from Brit explaining that she needed help. That she had written out a suicide note. I told her that when I got out of work we would be going to the hospital (mind you that Tom was still in town sitting on my couch at my apartment alone) My boss, my friend... helped me figure out what to do. She has dealt with some people in this situation before, so before leavbing work she talked me through what I should do.

When I arrived at home, I had to waita half an hour for Brit to come home. When she did, I was already waiting outside to bring her.
She begged me to give her time to get ready. I wouldnt let her.
It was part of my endeavor to not let her become like my father.

(To Be Continued)

This website is disgusting.

 http://www.godhatesfags.com/

This is the group that promotes hate and protests funerals, events, parties, parades and everything else they can think of.
They say it's in the name of God. It's disgusting.

<object width="425" height="355"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/e647x8xFKTs&hl=en"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/e647x8xFKTs&hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"></embed></object>

Just saying...

I think I have the coolest best friend ever! ::cough:: Jill :: cough::  I <3 you! I'm so happy that we are going to party and travel. ::woot::

Moree picsss




I look pretty guant and tireddd! Its because I am..

Owwww!

 

Owwwwch. He pierced through scar tissue!

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Going to go get my lip pierced today!

I'm going to go get my lip pierced today! I'm stoaked! Pictures to come later.... ::woot::

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So..

Today is the day. 
3 years to the day.
I didn't know this time 3 years ago.
I was at church.
I came home around 10.
I lived at my grandparents.
I was watching t.v.
I was eating Ramen.
I heard a siren.
I didn't think twice.
I saw a car pull in.
I saw who stepped out of it.
I knew what was coming.
I knew before they opened their mouths.
I could see the looks on their faces.
I wanted to retreat.
I wanted to run from it.
I didn't want to stand there and take the information.
I wanted to fly away.
I didn't. 
I cried instead.
I saw my grandmother pull in.
I knew it wouldn't be good.
I fled upstairs with my good friend Kaytee.
I was more worried about how she would take it.
I was worried about her feelings about her son.
I cried for a minute, not for my father, but for my grandmother.
I watched people arrive for several hours.
I ordered a large pizza from papa ginos.
I ate the whole thing.
I remember people talking, 
But I can't remember what they were saying.
I remember going bowling with the youth group tonight 3 years ago.
I remember staring at the ceiling.
I went back to my grandmothers.
I stayed up the whole night talking to my aunt.

Everything is a blur, from which I extract randmon memories. 

Sometimes, I still think 'why'.

What I wrote one year after the death...


February 11th, 2006

I want to cry. I'm too scared too. I don't know why.

I'm sitting here in this house, my mothers, knowing that this time last year, my dad... he was getting drunk and high. I picture him. I picture him walking around the house with his limp that he aquired from his medical condition, MS (multiple sclerosis). I imagine him going into the kitchen and opening the fridge. I see him telling himself how worthless he is. He said that alot. I see him drinking 12 Hienekins. I see him getting as high as he could on any and all marijuana that he had left. I see him rambling to himself about anything and everything.

I picture that 4:30 in the morning phone call made to my grandmother asking if my mother would be home that night. I see him in our basement creating a noose out of some rope. I see him scrathing out that note he left "Linda, Don't look in the shed. Give my c.d.'s to the library". Thats all it said. It was scratched on the back of an envelope. I see him walking out the back door and opening the door of the shed. I see him setting up the ladder and tieing the rope around the rafter. I see him climbing up the ladder.. I see him tightening the noose around his neck and then..

then I see... I see him step off.

And I wonder what he was thinking when he did it.

I feel responsible in parts..

I feel hurt in some parts..

I feel angry in some parts..


The thing that sucks.. is that I have a vision of him hanging himself at least once a night everynight. It just comes and I can't help it.

Since journal entries actually do know justice in showing emotion.. you'll never know that I feel like I'm about to just burst into tears.


I hope you didn't read any of that.


Back to the present.

I still feel the same way as I did then, sometimes.

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