I constantly try to figure out the difference between reality and a dream, I’m never sure which answer to pick, is it the blue pill or the red, which choice brings me closer to happiness. Some days it feels like I should pick one and others I feel the complete opposite. Some days you can never tell. Having our home in chaos with too many things coming and going, I have become lost in the deliberation of what is important and what is not. My father will tell you I am the sentimental one of the bunch, I have too many memories tied with all this stuff. Each picture is tied to a portion of my soul, every memory is a bandaid to things I’d rather remember without the pain. However, my world begins to crumble as a dollar store frame has lived for far too long. I am emotionally invested in the picture. A smiling face I haven’t seen in way too long. If the frame breaks does this mean I didn’t love him enough? Am I the failure his mom always said I was? Does he never want to see me again like she says? Does my love for him deteriorate like the cheap frame? Can I ever live if he isn’t smiling on my wall? No, I couldn’t manage my life without the son who has cast me out. I won’t forgive myself, I’d rather scar myself with art, another tattoo that tells my story. There are not enough tears that could line these cheeks in ink over the tears I have shed over my children, the mistakes that I have made. It is not even close to the pain I feel. I won’t stop, never quit, never give up hope, never ever stop caring until either one of us stops breathing! There’s nothing that can make me stop torturing myself, I will continually look at the ink that I’ve used to replace the scars and know that all my kids have helped shape me into the man I now am. It is bitter sweet, a beautiful pain that I am ok with self inflicting.
Right, wrong or indifferent, my choices have separated these two best friends. We gardened and played. We were the 3 boys.
There’s not much more that I regret in my life, I’m not sure what I would give up to not see a grown up version of this…
My choices have caused destruction, they have caused pain, and they have caused so much love.
I can carry this burden as long as it is required of me. I can feel this pain, the wounds of my past choices, the scars tattooed upon my skin. This is the burden of my choices and the consequences of my actions.
Today, I’d rather hear my wife, my eldest son, my eldest daughter and my youngest daughter. I’ve cried enough. I have been forgiven by my eldest daughter and son. My wife believes in me even though she knows all the horrors that plagues my soul. She still chooses to be here, when the easiest path is away. My youngest daughter tells me true, I need to change, but. she loves me the way I am. I cry, I’m emotional, and I would rather spend time with my plants and family than most anything else living. I’m flawed and broken. I’m still here, one day I’ll witness the rejoining of my family. (blood and chosen)
Until then, I’ll keep going through my emotional rollercoaster, and believing that I’ll never be perfect. I’m just me. I miss the family that I don’t see enough. There’s still hope and I believe in love.
Thanks for never giving up on me. I’ll never give up either.