The last couple of days I have been thinking about my dad. For no apparent reason last night on the way home with my boyfriend, I told him everything. 

Whats so strange is that its not the fact that he doesnt care about me that hurts me, it is his life and legacy that hurts me. Who he is hurts me. What we had hurts me. I want my daddy more than anything in this world and I have needed him for so long. Maybe thats why I have given him so many chances, each time I have just wanted everything to be ok, I wanted him to be funny like I remembered him being. But most of all, I wanted to feel like my father was happy, and ok. I dont care how he has made me feel, I just want him to be ok.

I’ve never been able to find it in myself to hate my father. I’ve never found it in myself to be angry at him for anything hes done. Maybe its because I see so much of him in myself, when I look into the mirror I see him, when I speak I hear him, when I cry I feel him. I am just like him. A man that has had little to do with my life, shines in me in an unexplainable way.

I have watched my dad run more than anything else. I’ve watched him run from life, run from problems, from love, from addiction, from his family. I have watched him mess up so many times, when in my heart I really know he was trying. I really know. I have watched this man that I love so much continuously mess up his life and all I have ever wanted to do was be there to make him happy and make him feel proud of something he created, make him feel like hed done something right. I wanted so desperately to make him feel like, out of all the mistakes hes ever made, that I wasnt a mistake. I was something to be proud of. I was his little girl, who was pretty, smart, who accomplished things, who made people laugh, I wanted him to feel like he really had a hand in raising me and making me who I am and that was something right. I wanted him to feel like he hadnt lost everything, that I was still there and I loved him I didnt hate him.

I know he feels like he has failed his brothers, his sister and his parents, I know that feels like he has failed my mother. Everytime I saw my father he told me how much he loved my mom and how much he wishes he didnt mess things up with her, and how he would drop everything just to have us back again.

I think about my dad, and I see a broken man. A man who has been broken longer than I probably know. Thinking about my father that way absolutely kills me. When I think of him, I think of a man who has tried to live right, but despite everything, hasnt been able to. I think of a man who has depleated himself, someone who runs away all the time and has lived his life just running and not looking back. I think of a man who feels as if he messes everything up and that all he is is a big fuck up. It hurts me to think about that.

I dont know. This has been the hardest thing I have ever written. A long time ago, the last time I saw my dad and everything was ok..I think Kelley was with me. We were in Oklahoma and we were riding in the truck listening to some of his cds, he was making us listen to his country music, hah. Well, he played this song that he said was the theme of his life and when I heard it in the truck that day, it made my heart hurt really bad.

I downloaded that song tonight. Its hard to listen to.

I’ve dealt with my ghosts and faced all my demons
Finally content with a past I regret
I’ve found you find strength in your moments of weakness
For once I’m at peace with myself
I’ve been burdened with blame, trapped in the past for too long
I’m movin’ on

I’ve lived in this place and I know all the faces
Each one is different but they’re always the same
They mean no harm but it’s time that I face it
They’ll never allow me to change
But I never dreamed home would end up where I don’t belong
I’m movin’ on

I’m movin’ on
At last I can see life has been patiently waiting for me
And I know there’s no guarentee’s, but I’m not alone
There comes a time in everyone’s life
When all you can see are the years passing by
And I have made up my mind that those days are gone

I sold what I could and packed what I couldn’t
Stopped to fill up on my way out of town
I’ve loved like I should but lived like
I shouldn’t
I had to lose everything to find out
Maybe forgiveness will find me somewhere down this road
I’m movin’ on

I have letters from him. I have a letter he wrote me on our first Christmas apart. I dont remember that Christmas. I miss him a lot.

Now, I dont know if I will ever see him again. There was a period of a year or so where we werent in contact, I didnt know where he was..he had ran away again. But, one day someone knocked on my door and it was him. He had moved to Oklahoma.

I wish hed knock on my door again.

Ive not ever been good at relationships. I am a lover of solitude. An introvert, and a loner. It is not in my nature to desire to be around someone…another human being. 

How and why do feelings develop? What causes feelings to develop more quickly in some pairings than in others? Why do feelings go away? Why do we fall in love…and why do we fall out of love? What causes such insane, irrational, longing for some….and complete opposite for others?

Is there a time period in which a period in which someone should NOT feel longing and love for an individual? Is there a such thing as too soon? 

I do not know if I believe in being “in love” with someone. I do not know if I believe in “true love.” But the feelings of loving someone. Loving who they are..loving them as a human being…why does this develop? How long does it take for it to develop?

Sorry…just some random thoughts. 

I will probably get shit for this too…but I do not really care at this point.

It seems that on a daily basis my twitter, facebook, and tumblr are overrun with melodramatic posts/tweets/status updates about love lost or…some other first world bullshit. 

Now…dont get me wrong. I am not comparing my story to yours….but allow me some time to pat myself on the back, puff my chest out, and be proud of what a FUCKING strong young woman I am.

I will tell you a little something about..moi :)

I am a recovering intravenous heroin addict. Heroin took…a great part of my life. My late teens and early twenties. I didnt CHOOSE to be an addict. No one does, no more than one CHOOSES to be in love with someone. We may choose to hang out with that person…maybe even on a daily basis…but we dont choose to fall in love with them. Just like we dont choose to stick needles in our arms and steal from our mothers…at least most of the time.

I have been off of heroin for over three years. I still struggle with addiction. I am a methadone addict. 

Most of us are not so lucky to meet…the love of our lives when we are 18. I did. Well, I technically met him much earlier but the day after my 18th birthday he entered my life in a very unexpected way. He was not my first love. Nor will he be my last love…but he was THE love. I was lucky. We were toxic to one another. 5 years of passion in the best and worst ways…love, fights, drugs, love. 

We were both arrested in 2008. You guessed it! Heroin. We got busted along with a handful of other people in a decent sized local sting.

I made a choice that would change my life, and he made a choice that would change his. I chose to get off of heroin, and onto methadone. A legal, long term maintenance program for junkies. He chose not to.

But, we wouldnt leave one anothers lives. We couldnt. I couldnt leave him to die..

But he did.

He died almost one year later.

The universe told me in a strange way.

On Saturday July 25th, 2009 I got a phone call around 1am. It was him. He was..fucked up. My chest hurt when I heard his words slurring. He asked if he could spend the night with me and I ..fucking..said..no. I couldnt. I was trying so hard to live life the right way…so hard and to let him back in would fuck it all up. Wed been in contact daily, but…not INTIMATELY…just friendly. Him spending the night with me would change everything and I would risk what I had fought so hard for..for the past year. So I told him no.

At 6pm that evening he died. With a needle in his hand. 

Sometimes I hate myself for saying no. Sometimes I think “My God, my God…if I had said yes…he may have still been with me come 6pm….he might still be here…”

His death, over my heroin addiction, over my fathers addiction and estrangement from my life….has been the SINGLE most defining thing. If I can survive this. I can survive anything- save for maybe my mothers death.

I found out he was dead through a text..from a mutual friend. I didnt believe it, so I called his mother, who, hated me. She said to me..”Oh sweetie…hes dead…” and I dont think I could scream the way I did that evening again if I tried. You do not know pain, anger, resentment, sadness. I couldnt even take a breath. I just..hung up the phone and I called my best friend and wailed into the phone over and over “hes gone..hes gone…hes gone” and..the next thing I remember was her running into my room, crying and holding me. I dont know how long that went on.

Two years later I am still struck by severe grief, at times. It hits me like a cold, cold wind. Just..cuts me right in two, you know? I have written about this several times…

Grief does insane things. Sometimes I pray that he comes back and haunts me. If I could just see his ghost…if he could just come back. Ill never, ever see him again. Ever. 

So..I see these posts on tumblr about lost love and I just, think to myself that I would give anything to see him alive, sober, happy, even with someone else. If he were just HERE. If he were just here among the living.

But he is a pile of ashes on his mothers mantle. He exists only in memory. Sometimes its like he never existed at all and its those moments that break me the most. 

I miss him so much. Please be thankful. God, please…be thankful.

I would love to start something here on Tumblr among all of my Rroma friends, and allies……

I would LOVE us…to take a picture of ourselves and put it in a post, or make a video exclaiming proudly that we ARE Rroma and we ARE proud. Talk a bit about Rroma culture, etc. And, if you are an ally…take a picture of yourself and write about or make a video about why you are an ally…

Opre Rroma!! Its really time… sometimes I feel so pained and so…helpless looking at my brothers and sisters in Europe. Some of the pictures and videos just…make my chest hurt. We have to band together, all international Rroma and our allies and stand up for who we are, our culture, our past..and our wonderful, wonderful future!

I will be making my own video, telling my own story tomorrow :)