You Suck

March 8, 2012
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My father has never been a part of my life. The old drunk must have thought to highly of himself to ever show up I guess. Not that it truly matters to me. I have taught myself not to care. I was my own dad. You want to know the worst part of it all though? He is there. He is like a yellow raft in blue water; shell shockingly bright against the settle Yale blue, always there, the ending of a trailed off thought. In every one of my favorite songs, in every book I read, in every color I see. Like the raft, he would cause ripples, shifting every now and then; not thinking about the effects he’d have on the tranquil waters that are my life.

He will forever be the yellow raft, and I will forever be the blue water.

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