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hallowed be thine and shit 15 November 2006 - 07:26 Everything feels so strange now that I know Pifas is going to die. My mother's honesty on the matter is both a gift and a curse right now. Because, you know, sometimes you wanna be told everything is gonna be alright, that it's all gonna be fine, he'll get better and all that bullshit... even if you know it's a lie. I want a comforting lie. Yeah, that's it. But 'Ama will never succumb to that. She's too honest for that, and I suppose she thinks she's preparing me this way, by telling me repeatedly that my father's days are numbered.But there is no preparation for this. Nothing will ever make it better, and it's just oh so much worse because I can see him wither before my eyes, slowly, every fuckin' day. 'Apa's got liver cirossis, and it's bad, very bad. He's already shitting blood and all that. Just last week he was at the hospital so they could drain the accumulated liquid in his abdomen. That's when the specialist told me he didn't have much time, although, granted, he didn't want to tell me exactly how much. But he did tell me to start making funeral arrangements. *sigh* Last night I slept with my workclothes on, boots and all. I was too fuckin' tired. I'm always too fuckin' tired now. Thanksgiving's coming but no one's moved to buy anything. There doesn't seem to be cause for much celebration over at my place. Now that's unfair. I know I've got much to be thankful for. I'm just being a pisser. But if your father was dying you'd probably be a pisser too. Unless you hated your father and shit. Which I don't. I don't even know what I'm typing anymore. My hamsters are making a mess on my floor, and all over my filing cabinet. I don't move to stop them. I don't move to stop anything, because I can't. I can't save him, got it? So stop looking at me like that, all hopeful and shit. I ain't Jesus. And now the Killers play in my head. God, I hate the Killers. They remind me of Denise, and I wish I could Kill 'Er. That was very "Buuu". I'll play some Cradle of Filth instead. Have them soothe me with their Iron Maiden remake. I feel like that. Like the protagonist of that song, Hallowed Be Thy Name. It's as though my father's death were linked with mine. Which in a sense I guess is true; a part of me will die with him. "Someone please tell me I'm dreaming..." I've been playing that song over and over again since 'Apa was in the hospital, both the original Iron Maiden version and the remake. It just... feels right to me. Reminds me of him now in his last. I think I've gone beyond pain to becoming numb and slightly confused. Like a fetus. I feel like a fetus, detatched and not really there, though alive. I really need to stop now, I don't know where I'm going with this. |