Nothing is black and white.
Everything is a concept and in context.
I can love you and grieve who you should have been.
I can know who you were and be in hysterixs over who you could have been.
I loved and hated you.
I avoided you at all costs and hoped someday my Pappy would come.
Please come.
But you didnt.
I watched you love others.
I know you were capable.
I know I was never enough to see that man.
You died with me settled on Easter after hot dogs, on ignored collect calls, on ketchup packets that should have not happened,
on do not engage in those activities, and what the fuck Is wrong with you.
You left and I’m broken, and grateful .
You cant hurt anyone anymore.
But am grieving because you also will never come home.
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