Go take a motrin

You know those happy memories you have...
Of just you and your dad.
You and your father.
Just spending time together.
Doing whatever it is that made you happy.
Well i only have one memory like that.
Its November of 2007.
We have our dog champ with us.
He needs a new pen.
So me and my dad go to HomeDepot to buy wood.
We spent all day on  that pen.
And at the end of the day,
We went to my favorite resturant for dinner.
Just me and my dad.
Talking about scouts.
Talking about school.
Talking about life.
Just me and him.
Well this memory is all I have.
Dont think my dad is dead.
Dont think he left my family.
He just left me.
He goes to all my sisters soccer games.
Takes care of my sisters when they are sick.
Does everything for them.
But when im sick, he tells me to take a motrin.
When I have a deabte tournment or a scout trip, he tells me my sisters have a soccer game.
But in reality...
He hates me.
I dont know why.
Or what i did but he hates me.
I bring this up because yesterday i walked up to a church near my house to meet up with a friend.
I was sitting there waiting.
And two families come up to the playground, which is where i was sitting.
The moms sat and talk.
And the dads ran around with the kids.
Laughing.
One kid fell.
Hurt his knee
The dad helped him up.
Didnt tell him to go take a motrin.

The Razor

Why?
When?
Why?
Where?
Why?
With what?
Why?
They asked me these questions when they found out.
They found out in South Carolina.
On our way to Georgia.
They found out on our way to my Grandmothers Funeral.
They found out in Bojangles.
Thats how they found out.
I didnt want them to find out.
But he saw.
He saw the scars on my arms.
He saw the moments in my life when i was at the lowest points.
The lowest points i had ever been at.
Casue thats what those scars are.
My worst memories.
The moments i wish had never happened.
The moments i felt as though i was alone, as though no one cared.
The moments i did the thing most people make fun of.
The thing that i never thought i would do.
When i picked up that razor.
Drug it across my wrists.
I watched the blood come out.
I stumbled back.
I sat down.
And i cried.
I cried for all that had gone wrong in mys life.
All that had gone against me.
For every time i had been hurt.
Every time that something went wrong.
Every time it was my fault.
Every time that i wanted to die.
Im sorry about this.
Im sorry for being alive.