still around.

My body is weak.

It’s never been strong enough

For the dreams I have,

But I’ve never felt it

Quite this strong.

You can sleep tonight,

Knowing it’s alright.

You aren’t here with me,

But you’ve been here

All along.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about all the people who have to live without a parent, or parents at all, and it kills me. There have been days when I thought I’d pull my hair out trying to impress my father, and days I cried my eyes out worrying about what my mother would think about this thing or that. As many hurtful things as I’ve said about the pair, I’m glad to call them my parents. I wouldn’t be here without you.

Mother,

At this point, there isn’t a thing worth speaking about that I haven’t told you. Any time some tragic event happens in my life, you’re the first person I call. I know that you’ll be there with advice, words of wisdom, or to laugh at how not tragic the event actually is. You’re a wonderful old bat, and I could never in a million years thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me. All the times I said horrid things about your or acted out, and you still took me back. You have the patience of a saint, and when we actually learned how to have a normal relationship, it was quite possibly the best thing that ever happened to me. You gave me life, and at any moment, I know you’ll be there to help me through any situation. You’re a beautiful woman, and you are so strong. I hope that if I ever make it, I’ll be something like you. Strong and smart and witty. Beautiful and cunning and wonderful. I used to hide every moment of the day, and now I don’t hesitate to tell you exactly what’s going on in my life, and I don’t spare any details (though I probably should). You know exactly how to reel me back in from the deep blue sea, my dear lady daydream. Please never change; never let go of your spirit, and because of you, I’m never letting go of hope. I love you, times a million.

Father,

I’ve spent the last 19 years of my life looking up to you like some idol. Every instance I can remember, I’ve thought, “what would daddy think of this?” you are so strong-willed and stubborn, and you are so just like me. I can’t count how many times I’ve pushed myself past my limits just so you’d be proud of me at the end of the day. I can’t count how many times I’ve felt, I’ve known, that I had let you down. There have been days when I felt I just couldn’t win with you. Like you were some untouchable figure, not to be bothered with my silly life or my silly dreams. I’ve come to a point where I can only hope that you give a shit about all these things I’m doing for you and for you exclusively. Yes, you give me so much, and I’m light-years beyond thankful, but that’s not what I’m working so hard for. I want you to be proud of me, because most days I think you’d rather just have two sons, and I feel like a parasite in your life. Some days I just want you to tell me, “good job.” I love you, daddy. No matter what we may argue about tomorrow, from the Sunday list to my lip ring. Maybe I’m not what you expected me to be, or, worse, maybe I’m not what you wanted, but daddy, this is me. I want you to accept me and love me for it. I dream about the day when we have the relationship that you have with my brothers. Until then, I’ll take third place, and I’ll be happy with it. At least I still medaled, I guess. Bronze is better than none. I love you, daddy. Really, I do.

you guys are the best,

the best thing that's ever

happened to me.

we are not the same.