I’m a daddies girl. Always was, even though we don’t talk anymore.
When I was younger my father got into a severe car accident.
One night him and his car full of friends were all drinking, including his girlfriend. On the way home something happened. My dad must have lost control of his car. They swerved off the road and crashed into a barn.
Sarah, my dads girlfriend at the time, went through the windshield and passed away.
Sarah I still think about you. I didn’t know you well yet, but I remember being so little and you were so pretty. Dad kept a picture of you right on his dashboard. He never did that with anyone else so it made me feel like you truly made him happy.
I know another girl in the car accident, one of her lungs collapsed, but she would be okay. Dad had to get stitches above his lip I believe. No body else was seriously hurt from what I recall.
Dad ended up serving 2 years in prison for manslaughter. He will quote till this day saying he wasn’t the one driving, but I know he was. He hasn’t talked about Sarah. I’ve tried to bring her up, and when I do he gets mad. But the way I live and how I feel is that her spirit needs to stay alive, no matter how guilty you feel dad.
Everyone’s lives changed from there.
Dad was depressed a lot. He started doing drugs, just like my mom. He never gave up on his kids, but he would do stupid things, have random raging outburst, and start breaking things. He couldn’t ever love or find love. He was honestly just a mess.
He tried though. He still does. He just has and had so many issues.
One day I was hanging out with my friends. At the time we lived in a trailer park. Right next to it was a church with a big field. My sister came running over. She says something is wrong with dad. I ran, I ran faster then ever before. I get home, dad is crying in the hallway, just laying there bleeding everywhere. I asked what’s going on. He’s pissed. My assumption is because him and Staci (girlfriend) were fighting. I looked around and his whole entire bedroom was flipped upside down.
He says he’s fine and not to call the cops. The situation here is that he slit his wrists. Again. Whenever he’s not feeling good enough or loved he does this. It’s not fair to his kids at all, but we deal. Are we going to loose our dad just as fast as we lost our mom? The truth is we already lost him, but unlike my mom just taking off, we had to sit and watch himself be selfish, watch him go in a downward spiral.
Honestly I never know. He has called me many times, at random times of the night, telling me bye and that he loves me. Then I freak out. Those words are only meant for when he wants to kill himself. But if he really did want to commit suicide, wouldn’t it have already worked?
I just think sometimes it’s this big drama fest, like he’s trying to get everybody’s attention.
He claims he has PTSD, but he’s never been diagnosed. He claims he blacks out every time any argument happens, but sometimes I think he’s lying and it’s just an excuse.
He cries for help all the time and when I try to help he doesn’t accept it. He just blows me off.
He’s gone to therapy and when you think it’s working it’s not.
But still till this day, if he wanted to die and so many opportunities to do so, why hasn’t it happened?
It’s definitely not that I want this to happen.
But why does he enjoy mentally abusing his children on random occasions.
It’s not fair.
It never will be.
But fuck, it’s out of my control, just like it’s out of his.