The ability to be alone

I used to have this. It wasn’t always my first choice, but there are times when you’re just on your own, and I was always pretty cool with it. Now I can’t be alone without being anxious, scared, thinking of him, and just plain crazy feeling. 

I don’t know why all I can think of is him, when I don’t even want to be with him. Actually maybe I do know. I wrote down all the things I missed about him the other day, then everything I don’t miss. It occurred to me that it would be a good exercise to do about my dad, too. I couldn’t even start on the list, though. I don’t want to go there and I never have.

I can’t even make a list of things I miss about my dad. It’s just a brick wall. I’m trying to bleed out the pain of my dad using substitute hurts that don’t hurt as much. It’ll never work. And if I think this little substitute hurt hurts, fuck me – I’m in for a bruising if I go near the real pain. 


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