Oh Sweet, Sweet Sorrow

I wish I were dead a lot.

I know thats horribly morbid and not something that anyone wants to see, but I honestly feel so drained at the moment. Like life...is just the last thing I need to be worried about right now.

I should explain my feelings. I came home from a pretty damn good day. I actually was looking forward to coming home and being around my family. But my dad was in the kitchen and he had a bone to pick. I should have ran for the toilet, but I decided to indulge him. Apparently, him and one of his Witness friends (my dad is a "devout" Jehovah's Witness) had a debate over why my sister and I ended up fornicators with children even though we were raised in the "truth" and his daughter never indulged in the ever present vices that plague our world. I was shocked at his candor of course. I answered honestly...that it sucked being the ony kid that didn't get to celebrate birthdays or participate in any activities. We weren't allowed to do jack shit as children. Not allowed off the porch type of shit. And he wonders why at the first chance of change we gripped on so tightly and fervently that nothing in this world would be able to release our grasp. Nothing.

We started the normal religious debate that we get into. Blah, blah, bliggety. And then...he says he's embarassed by us. That he can't stand the fact that his daughters are pregnant and that we shame him with every breath we take. I swear to God. I didn't cry. I told him that if he wanted the honest truth, the reason I left the "truth" was because I saw how he was in it. There's no way someone that claims to have found the perfect means of life and righteousness could be so incredibly miserable. I asked him why should I want to be in a religion that leaves me feeling like that? I know he's sick, as he pointed out, but if you believe so hard and you know that God takes care of all....isn't there supposed to be a point where you give your concerns to him? I wanted to keep the conversation to religion and why I wasn't a part of what I grew up in anymore. But he had to tell me that we were the reason that he's so damn miserable. We frustrate him and, of course, shame him and disrespect him, and other random grievances. I wish I could have recorded how he came down n me. He said I was stupid and that it was all my fault that I'm where I'm at in my life right now. Which is true...but the way he said it....he went on to tell me how fucking lucky I am that he's letting me and my bastard child live in his house when he shouldn't put up one penny for his well being. Because he has absolutely no obligation to this child and who am I to raise it anyway; I didn't even have enough sense to marry the nigger that got me pregnant. I'm a horrible burden on him and his house.

And then he told me he didn't love me.

I had to walk away at that point. I had taken as much abuse from him as I possibly could and I couldn't stop the tears before I got to the steps. I had been teling myself not to cry....whatever I did....not to let him see me cry. My father told me he didn't love me. And as I went up the stairs he called out that he should be the one walking away from my fat ass. Classic. Fucking amazing.

Went to the doctors today. He says my cervix is already open. Not dilated...just open. Also, Eric and I went to the golf course and watched the sun set. It was amazingly beautiful. I appreciate him.