I want to thank you all for paying your respects here today. It’s noble of you and therefore you deserve the truth. My father’s death has gone unnoticed in my heart. You see, I am not his loved one. No one is. Sorry Mom.
He found his one true love in the hatred of himself. He also found solace in whiskey, it’s the slowest way to drown, but it lets you enjoy the swim on the way down. Some of you may be gasping at my speech.” How dare she speak ill of the dead”. And I say how dare him for his ill treatment of the living.
I should say that there were many happy times in my childhood. After all, even monsters sleep. I mean, I used to think he was superman. I thought he knew everything. I did grieve when I lost my father, about a decade ago. Today we didn’t lose a man so much as an empty whiskey bottle with my dad’s soul trapped in it. Kinda like a haunted turtle shell. It’s kinda funny. The alcoholic seems like they’re filling a void when in fact their intake of this poison erodes the humanity within, the void is given to those closest to them.
Alcoholism is hard to see as a disease in the way something like multiple sclerosis is seen. Those people with MS didn’t hand feed themselves deterioration. Alcoholism is like an abstract virus, its mutation, its way through the firewall, is to infiltrate the core of one’s consciousness so that its diabolical manifests are the daily announcements of the infected mind.
I am not dragging my father’s existence through the mud. I am only saying that mud is tracked through every house. I just didn’t feel like cleaning up before our guest came over.
Speaking of guest, don’t forget to sign the guestbook on your way out if you haven’t already.
God Bless.
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From @thewindowflower