I slept for a couple of hours but couldn't keep myself asleep. I have a Zwan song on repeat that plays above my head and forwhatever reason, it reminds me of my father.
I'm a mental masochist...
4:06 a.m.//09.24.04
I remember a time when my father was an actual person; now he's more of a memory. My father. People interact with him everyday to either fill up his gas tank or hand him his morning coffee, but I never get the 'luxury' to see him though I can see his street from my bedroom window. I could see him if I wanted to, but one-sided initialization wares thin on a person after a while.
Ah, Kenny, what have you done to yourself? I can feel it in myself, that you're just like a box overflowing with regret. He told me, the last time I saw him, was that the best Christmas he's ever had was the first Christmas he spent with my mother. They went to some Broadway show in the city during the day, and then at night went to my mother's parent's house.
When he told me that, I had to fight back the tears because I saw just a face full of regret and pain.
That's such a nightmare to deal with. A 20-year marriage up in flames and it's all your own fault. You get tossed out of a cushy lifestyle with a daughter and a beautiful wife, to live by yourself above your mother's house, going to work only to come home and chain-smoke your way into tomorrow to do it all over again. All the while, you look around and everything is a constant reminder of how you fucked up. Going to bed alone after 20 years, I imagine, would be somewhat foreign.
I bet he did a lot of crying, or maybe not, because sometimes he comes across to be about as emotional as an android.
If I sit here and think a while about my father, it just gives me this feeling as if I glimpsed into a past life for a split second.
The macabre part of this is I often wonder how long it will be before I get that call telling me that he died. I think the pure reality of it would blow my mind right the fuck apart. What's even worse is I get the feeling that that phone call isnt too far off. This is not to say that I want him to die, because I very much do not want this. I just have a morbid tendancy to think about these things for the majority of my day.
I think I've just weirded myself out.
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