Coda

Dad was a religious cunt.

So much so he adapted scenes from the Bible. His favorite part was Jesus carrying the cross with the Romans and all of ’em lashing and whacking at his back. He decided I was the main lead. I never had a say in it. Day in, day out, his belt said its hellos and goodbyes whenever, wherever.

Actually never knew why that decrepit sad sack of shit was like that. Boring if I just said “Dad was a sadistic fuck”.

Could put all the blame on him. I mean, I did for a while. Blamed it on him on why I was here in the first place. But blaming never really helped. Never did anything.

Could say it was fate. But I never get why people believe in fate or destiny. You do that you have to take everything into account you know. You’re saying some men are just born to die infront of the people that love them, some men are just born to be stepping stones, some men born to carry great weight till they can’t, some men born to parents that hate because it was the only thing their parents knew.

Maybe.

Never was good with this philosophical stuff.

You keep going around in circles and circles and end up with a really shitty answer.

Looking back though, it wasn’t all bad. Wish I could say I regret everything I’ve done or I have a lot of shame and guilt, but that doesn’t really do anything good. Makes people feel bad for you or hate you, but I’m pretty sure I can do that on my own without anyone’s help.

To be honest, I feel alright. The fact that I know I’m gone after this meal. I mean hell, some people get it worse. Some have unfinished business, died before telling someone how they actually feel, died before being forgiven, or before seeing their sons or daughters graduate college. I’m one of the lucky ones, a cold beer in this hot dingy room with McDonald’s quarter pounder and some fries. Shit. There are worse ways to go.

I’m done man. I’ve said all I wanted to say. Did what I wanted to do. Took what I wanted to take. You guys on the other side think you’re winning but you lot of turbo retards just gave me the golden fucking ticket. What you think everything’ll be alright once I die? Like after I’m gone, people are going to be holding hands and singing songs? Some hippie koombaya shit with flowers and lavender being thrown around?

No fuckhead.

You ended my suffering. Their’s just started.

I won. You fucking lost.

There’s still going to be a hole in their hearts. Some cold hole that can never be filled. Everytime that dad walks by his daughter’s bedroom, there’s a fucking reminder. Everytime the mom goes to Hot Topic, there’s a fucking reminder. Everytime the brother listens to some fag song, there’s a fucking reminder. A date on the calendar. A fucking reminder.

They’re going to live out their entire lives with this weight.

The dad’s angry cause he couldn’t do shit. The mom’s crying in pain after her whole world was just taken away from her. And the brother's realizing life's not a fairytale.

So tell me, when you see those faces on the screen.

You still believe in fate?