My Father was in the hospital...

I'm not a big fan of him but I still care...SHIT!

I called and he answered.

We actually talked.

I really hate to love him.

My roommate told me tonight...

That he thinks I'm mentally ill....I need to go to a doctor and get help.

Interesting...for what? PTSD? Done it...there is no cure. There is no FUCKING drug that will take that away. Well there is but that drug numbs you so you can't see if he's coming.

Even when he's dead and buried it won't go away. He is always behind me with a hand on my shoulder telling me what a piece of shit I am.

I'm working through it really slowly. It takes a few years to get over some one trying to kill you...many times.

I'm starting to love music again. Can you imagine listening to music you hated 24/7 for a decade? Every thing I loved he hated. I actually liked his music for the first two years, it get's old after five years. He use to pawn my CD's for money when I was at work. I use to hide them but he would always find them. I had no music.

My friends started sending me music after he was gone. It's taken me a long time to figure out what I like. What I like will piss him off...but he's not here.

I wish people could understand how it feels. That's why I started this blog. Domestic Violence.

I can type all I want to but it will never explain it.

One good note from my therapist. "Never divulge what you have to other people."

Okay...I'll just live like a freak show on the inside.

Every morning at 4:05 am

I wake up. No alarm.

Sober or drunk, I wake up at the same time.

I tried to stay up tonight to see the 4:05...I passed out at around 3am.

I woke up at 4:05am.

I can remove all the clocks from the house but that doesn't remove the time.

I haven't been this sick for a long time...

Fear.

I tried to call his parents to find out where he is. I need to find out how close he is to me.

I saw him tonight.

He was on the corner two blocks from our house.

Some times I think I am being a freak. I should be stronger.

But honestly, how many times can some one try and kill a person?

Let's check my memory.

He said he wanted to slaughter me. He went in to mass details. Slitting my throat and watching me bleed to death. That's when I started hiding knives.

Taking me to the desert stripping me naked, covering me in honey and letting the ants eat me alive. Not my choice of a vacation.

Trying to kill me on Cahuenga pass after the MTV music awards by grabbing the steering wheel and trying to leap us on to the 101. It's a long dive.

Then when he tried to choke me. Screaming "Die bitch! Die." The bitch didn't die.

Then there was the time that he was in my face screaming "HIT ME!" I was done. Right hook to the jaw. Unfortunately he head butted me on to the couch. He wouldn't let me leave the couch.

Four hours. I couldn't move. He wouldn't let me. The phone was right there. Just in arms reach. He tried to bite me every time I went for it.

911. Three numbers that were so far away.

He scares me and he knows where I live.

Suicide.

A friend of mine lost some one via suicide.

It brought back memories of things I wish to forget.

What was his last thought before he pulled the trigger?

I think about him every day.

Some days I'm angry and some days I think about how fabulous he was.

Was...he blew his brains out. He was not fucking around.

What could I have said to make him not do it.