
I'm not a writer. My words won't inspire anyone... they don't inspire me.
I found out a few days ago my father has cancer, liver cancer, a bad form of it, I feel the prognosis is poor but I use all my mental craftiness to remain positive.
I'm selfish I know, my fear my suffering, are not for my father, they're for myself... I don't understand his suffering, i don't try to, if I'm to be honest... I'm consumed by my own fears, my own doubts.
I look at his belly and I see cancer, I see cells growing out of control destroying his body. I want to reach in with my hands and pull them out, I want to scream and blame someone, I want to take it and put it on somebody else because my father my dad doesn't deserve this. He's a great man. Loyal, proud, honest, loving, smart, funny, joyous, whatever other positive description you can find about a person you can associate with my father...
I don't want to see him go, I want to be here I want him to experience my life...
my my my, this is my pain, my fear, my suffering...
I cry, I hurt, why can't I feel for him, why can't my mind grasp what he feels
