these people. these corrupt, shallow, ugly people.
they want my affection, they lust for my sympathy. coddling, condolence, compassion- these are expected. these are mandatory.
my relationships blossom depending on my ability to produce this one-sided care, and they crumble all the same because this "care" is not applied with enough force. 
my relationships crumble because i'm never enough. 

but i've tried so, so hard. to love. unconditionally. to not expect anything in return, because the ever-present burden of giving is upon my shoulders, and mine alone. 
they want so much from me, and they take it. each and every f***ing day. 
i let them.

and it's come to a point where i don't know what's real anymore. sarcasm and sincerity grapple like fire and burn welts on my tongue. they fight to show their scorching faces and never persevere.
all the flame has done is weld them together. they sound the same.

you won't see this. you don't know who you are, but you do. you don't know this world anymore, but you do. when i close my eyes and think about you, you're somewhere dark and you're abusing cigarettes and the smoke of it billows around your cheeks while you talk about this place. down here. you remember this world. 
you remember me.
you have to.

when i was four you stole mom's credit card and bought me my favorite mickey mouse cheeses and we used to sit on the couch while you taught me how to make popsicle wrappers fly. 
and when i was five you went on that date with my principal... and when i was six we started counting how many girlfriends you'd slept with... do you remember that?
i do.
when i was seven a dragonfly landed on my finger that summer your car broke down. 
when i was eight you got me my first phone. the case had zebra stripes, my favorite. you knew that.
when i was nine, you fell. and at one in the afternoon i'd wake you up to eggs and cheese and kisses on your eyelids. and somehow you got better. i don't want to know how. but you know, right? you remember.
right?

do you remember the night you died? 

i can't. it's like i went to sleep one day and woke up another and suddenly you weren't there. 
i called and all the phone did was ring. and i'd sit there with my head in my hands, laughing. because it was funny.
i was ten years old and it was funny that my father was buried hours before, miles away. it was funny that the last chick he banged wanted to adopt me.
it was funny how i sat in your hoodie, clutching it so hard i eventually broke the zipper. and when the pieces of it clattered to the floor i chucked them at my curtains. they were silk.

you understood me. you cared, you comforted. you're the only one who did.

three more days. three more days and it marks five years.
whew, time. it goes so fast, but so, so slow.
it's getting harder and harder without you, dad. and if you're still there, i want you to know

that you did a lot of bad things. and i know i was young and you tried to hide them from me but they're still there and i can't even put them into words and as much as you want me to i can't forgive you. nobody can.
but the one thing you did right? you loved me.
but that love? i've been giving it away to everyone else, and now it's not apart of me anymore.
i can't feel you anymore.

so, i'm begging you. remember me. remember this. remember what you did.
do it all again. hurt me and hurt them and hurt yourself but just come back.
please?

three more days.