#mostly not sorry

[thevoidfarer]

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[hiimtryingtounderfell]

Welp....... Im lost here

Hi, lost here, I’m Kaitogirl!

[pitbullsandpasta]

I have a great bitterness towards Father’s Day. I do my best to remain silent over social media and oblivious in person. I try not to rain on anyone’s parade. A lot people I went to high school with are celebrating their firsts this year.

But while everyone is busy praising the picture-perfect father, the dad that “isn’t perfect, but is perfect for me,” or the daddy that has long since passed away and is now well missed, I can’t keep my mind from wondering. I wonder things like, “Do I miss my dad?” More often as of late my thoughts probe the emotional outcome of discovering the passing of my dad. Will I care? Will I be moved to tears? Will those tears be tinged with sadness or maybe bitterness? Or will they somehow be sweetened with happiness?

Terrible, right? That I should think about the death of a parent and wonder if I should feel relief or happiness. 

Given the option, my dad chose someone else’s family over his. He chose another family with a woman who had no business around young children or those entering their pre-teenage years. He chose another family with kids that were already grown and on their own. A family that had already been through the tough growing stuff. One that didn’t require him to parent. One that didn’t require comfort in the middle of the night from a bad dream. One never meant dealing with a sick child. One that never had stumble through “the talk”. One that never needed help learning how to tie shoes, or help with that math homework that only he could do. He chose the easy way out.

He got to pass go, skip the hardship, and go straight to awful family Christmas photos with matching sweaters and dogs I was never allowed to have during my limited time with him.

And it hurt me. I still remember putting everything together in the bottom bunk of my bed. And how I tried to find the piece I was missing because surely my daddy doesn’t not love me.

But he confirmed the hurt. He told me that it was my fault that I had a hard time with his wife. Phones work both way. He’s a busy man, so I need to call him if I want something. I can attract more flies with honey than vinegar, he’d tell me. I was informed that if I wanted time, attention, birthday calls or cards, then I should be offering them first.

I never figured out how to get across to him that I didn’t want to attract flies. I just wanted a little of his attention and the smallest bit of genuine affection.  I tried to understand. I tried to be patient. I felt that I shouldn’t have to work so damn hard to get the time and attention I wanted from my parent. 

So, my last half-hearted (but fully sarcastic, as by this time I was bitterly aware that I would not get what I knew I needed) ploy for anything from him was a Father’s Day gift. “What do I get for the man that has everything?” He was well off; I was too young to have a job. That meant my mom would be the one actually purchasing a gift for the man that she watched willfully neglect what he helped create. I settled on dish towels. He had a million ties already and never wore the ones I picked anyway. I figured a dish towel was something that everyone needed. You see, he and his wife were settling into their new home. The home my family began with was being packed up and left behind, just like me. But a dish towel is always useful for one thing or another.

The towels I found were in a pack of four. They were beige with brown trim. I found them at JC Penny. I was genuinely excited for some reason. I guess I thought that maybe if I got him something useful for every day life then perhaps I wouldn’t be so easily forgotten? When he opened his gift, he scoffed. The tone he used betrayed his lack of amusement as he pulled the still attached dish towels from the bag, “Dish towels?”

 “Well yeah, I figure everyone needs them, you have plenty of ties, and I thought these could maybe match your new kitchen.”

That was it. After that we only spoke when it was absolutely unavoidable.

I try very hard not to be outwardly bitter. I have tried for many years to convince myself that I was better off without. I was overly optimistic and tried very hard to make sure no one knew how much I hurt. But the hurt was there. The hurt is still there. I don’t know what to do with it anymore. So I just let it be in the back part of my mind. Aloof in all of the memories and information in my mind there is always this remnant of a much larger pain. Every Father’s Day it gets brought to the forefront of my mind and I find myself frantically trying to relive memories and think of what I could have done to make things better.

I know wallowing in the past doesn’t help your present or future self. I get angry with myself when the flood of memories flashes through the theater of my mind. My anger manifests itself into hot tears. Through the tears the anger brings me to the sad and hurt little girl I was when I realized that the love I had for my father was not, in any way, returned for me.

Just once a year, I try very hard to be oblivious to myself. I try very hard to forget the struggle to encompass and understand what I experienced in the development of youth. I never forget, and I have yet to get through this day of appreciation without the bitterness raging through me.

So when I find myself wondering about whether or not I miss my dad, there’s usually a resounding “NO WAY!” This is the stubborn wall of prideful protection I built in his wake talking, of course. I miss the idea of what my dad should have been. I cannot deny that. But when I think about what I will feel when I find out he has died, I can’t help but think that it might offer me some relief in that I could properly grieve someone that left my life too soon.

[toomoonfic]

what I should be doing: studying for exams

what I actually did: wrote 3k of Ramos/Pique fic

[taeypo]

Me: *agressively protective of BTS*

Also Me: pff are they supposed to be a legit kpop group because all I see is a fucking tall ass mofo who can't dance for shit, his princess wife, a horse, somebody's grandpa, a cute marshmallow with abs and his pet dog, and a living meme who looks like he could bench press the Rock.

[minstr3lsong]

I am exactly 0% sorry for the sudden influx of posts and reblogs this weekend. This fandom is literally in my blood and this cannot be stopped.

[megbytheminutes]

Uuuugh, our city's major district (near 130 schools within a 10-20 minute radius of us) is closed altogether and I've just officially lost hope for even a delay. Fuck you very much, guys. 

On the bright (or rather, the pitch-black, pre-sunrise) side, today was the very first day I actually woke up at stayed up when my alarm went off at 4:45am because I was too anxious to refresh the school closings page to fall back asleep after hitting snooze. So. At least I didn't oversleep today?

I am not fucking built to wake up at 4:45. I need to get myself a job at one of those late start schools.

[cory-schneids]

lol I told my friend about my not-so-secret obsession with Thatcher and I swear the judgement was so real so I may or may not have sent her the Dancing Demko interview and a vine or two😂