false

     I thought about killing myself, and then I realized that no one would care, and then I thought about killing myself again.

I turn to the bottle, because the bottle never says no.
The bottle never gives me excuses or gets tired on me
I tip it back, repeatedly, because when I get tired it is the best medicine.
When I want to forget, it wipes my mind and when I want to feel or vent, it removes my filter.
When I am beyond words, but no tears I find, it releases the flood gates and I feel OK.
When I am empty beyond my own strength, it helps me forget, if only for the moment that I am alive.
When I wake up and wish I wasn't awake, I drink, and then I can pretend I'm just dreaming about getting pulled over, losing my life and having to see my dads face, as he desires, so dreadfully desires, to not be my father.

He couldn't have been a better father, and I couldn't have been a worse son.
I am all broken inside.
Inside my mind and inside my heart.
Everything is shattered.

I often wonder how odd it is for a male to have daddy issues. I know that I have them, although I've never quite researched exactly what they are said to be. I only know that I feel, at every moment in my life that I am letting my dad down. That I am doing exactly the opposite of what he wants.

I have dreams that consist solely of my father talking to me in a disappointed voice and asking me how I could possibly do this to him. How I could possibly do this to my mother and how I could possibly make these choices over and over again. And then I wake up. And I find tears on my pillow and a pain in my side. All I can think is how sorry I am and how much I don't want to be alive at that moment.