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About Whatsaro

  • Birthday 12/07/1987

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    Las Vegas, Nevada

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  1. It had been a daunting few months, the planning and all. Seemingly it probably still wasn’t enough time to finish all the things necessary, but that was something she couldn’t think about now. A year seemed like such a long time when she was at the start of it, but by the end, it was like that nap that went entirely too quickly. But with all the anxiety, she was sure she had thought of it all, the little minute details of the occasion, and if she had forgotten, her mother surely had chimed in a time or two. The point of the matter was that she had put much hard work into this day, that it just had to be perfect. Her nerves weren’t helping any, but she read in one of those books that it was normal to have “jitters”. She’d read them all by now, she imagined. The self-help guides, the elegance pieces, fun things to do, all of them. All stacked in a pile somewhere in her office, knowing that after today, they would be useless and “dust-collectors”. They had served their purpose and now like all things, it was time for them to be retired. The room where she was stood in front of the mirror smelled of orchids. It was unlike any feeling she had encountered before, warm fragrance filling her nose, the sight in the mirror almost surreal, and the talking in the background mostly tuned out. Her best friend and her mother prattling on about this and that, yet none of it really concerning her at the moment. The feel of the smooth satin was almost disconcerting, yet dreamy. Her breaths shallow and controlled, and very much labored. White satin with the accents of deep purple lace near the bottom hem and a-line seam, the criss-crossed woven pattern of purple satin that spanned from her lower shoulder blade to her lower back was perfectly laid. Every detail matching the next, down to the color of flowers, white orchids, purple dyed roses, and all tied together with a spray of baby’s breath. She had spent the last few months organizing the lists, seemingly everything had a list. A list for even the tiniest thing. She had written more over the course of those months, than in all her years of school for sure. Lists made sure that perfect was achieved. And after some 50 lists, she had to have done it. Perfect was only a short walk away. Her concentration broken as her best-friend touched her shoulder, the slow motion dream state broken, and now she was plunged back into that of chaos. The details being shouted around in the room, and her friend yet again looking at the wall clock to reiterate the time. Nodding and heading out of the room, leaving the safety of it and realizing that she was about to be given much attention. Unsure of how she felt about that, she had always been more of a background person, but today she was at the forefront of the circus. Nothing like the sudden start of loud music, crisp and prestige, to get her head even farther from with it. Her closest confidants, walking away from her, closer to the music. They looked lovely, like a scene from a book, not the ones she had been reading in the last year, but like that of her childhood books. This was the “Ball-Scene” chapter. And all the most gorgeous of her life was waltzing away. This was about to be the best day of her life, and she had been waiting most of her life for this to be more than just a fantasy in the back of her mind. Her brother stood next to her, giving her a hug and a kiss on the cheek, lowering her veil over her face, and lovingly asking her, “It’s time, are you ready?”. No. She wasn’t ready. She had forgotten the most important detail, something that had been so carelessly left from a list. How could she have forgotten? Of all the lists she made, how did this not manage it’s way into one of them? How could she? Looking about the area, she couldn’t find it either. She couldn’t find him. Her father wasn’t there. To walk her down the aisle. To give her away. The detail she neglected. The detail that reminded her that “The best day of your life” would actually be the worst.
  2. I found myself coming to accept the changes in my life as I walked into the kitchen today. Thinking that this was in fact my home, a world in which I live in a house with my grandparents, a place I have a hard time being myself so instead I just mimic the people around me. This world where my dad isn’t in it, accepting that a little over a month ago he decided to put a gun in his mouth and pull the trigger. Coming to accept these things is not by any means a good thing. It’s just me accepting status quo. And that is not me. I’ve never settled for second best at anything, why would I do it when it is my life? They say anger is something that will fade and it will turn into acceptance. But I don’t want it. Right now, this moment, I want to be angry. I want to scream and cry, and curse the sky for this being my life. It’s when everyone has gone out or is sleeping, when I am left to my thoughts, alone with them, that I see how much I hate this. Any day mom, dad and I will get to go home. Back to our house. Back to the way things were. Any minute now… Just wait and you’ll see, that the phone will ring. The call that says this is all a mistake and that wasn’t him on the side of the road. That he is alright, a little beat down, but coming home… Alive. It happens in the movies and in the stories I write. Those are possible, if I can dream it then it can happen. If I wish hard enough, pray to whatever god will listen, then it has to right? I’m angry and I’m hurt, and some feelings I’ve never even knew existed. The menial things hurt the most, the ice creme truck with it’s music going down the street. Playing “It’s a Small World”, reminding me of the times my dad could talk of nothing else, but how awesome that ride was at Disney. How it lit up his face each time it started. The puppets and dolls dancing as his eyes looked with bewilderment. That will never happen again. He’ll never tell another stupid joke that no one ever laughed at. He’ll never say, “You’ll miss me when I’m gone.”, anymore. I never thought I would dad. But I do. And I hate that you are gone and there is nothing I can do to bring you home. I can’t write it better. I can’t fix this like I would one of my stories. Reality is my greatest fear and I can’t escape it.
  3. I just write and write... hoping enough writing will answer these questions... but it doesn't. So I continue on...
  4. I wrote this the night of the Sandy Hook Tragedy, and although I was not directly involved or impacted, living on the other side of the country, I still had some very strong emotions for the people who did. I myself am not a mother either, but I can't imagine losing a child, and all those lives... wasted.
  5. I suppose I'm angry right now dad, mainly at you, but some at other people. Including God, and myself in that anger. I justify away the anger at myself because of the way you have made our lives the last few months, and I forgive God altogether because you did this to yourself. It wasn't cancer which ate you from the inside with no chance of stopping it, no, you took your own life. What could God have done? Stopped you? What sort of free will is that anyway? I guess I am so angry that I miss you. You didn't even let me say goodbye, not that it would make me less angry... but what kind of note did you leave us on? A really bad one. I hear you in my head now... chattering away, droning on, trying to explain to me why this was right... and you know what I hear dad? Nothing, nothing that makes any sense to me. You left me here... alone. Yeah I have mom, but I don't want to be that burden on her, because you caused her enough pain. She hurts, and there is nothing I can do to stop this pain from hurting her. No, she has to suffer because you were too weak, too scared to stay here. It was so easy to be mad at you for all of this while you were alive, but now the only thing I can be mad about currently is your decision to run away from it all. Do you realize what kind of questions are left behind? The questions a daughter has now? Like this, try this one on for size; What did I do that was so horrible to deserve this? Was I not worth more than your problems? I thought I was your little girl, you said that... you said I was the most important thing in your life, me and mom. Then why would you leave us?! Are you ashamed of what you see now? Now that you see all of who I am. Am I the little girl you were so proud of? Are you still proud? What do I do now... now that I have to figure this out alone? Ok, I'm just going to come out and say it. You were so selfish to think that suicide was doing us good.The most important day in a girls life... her wedding day. Right? The day every little girl dreams of. The most special day, and what will I be thinking of, when I walk down that aisle. "Where is my daddy?" and "Why isn't he here to walk me down the aisle and give me away?". What about our "father daughter dance"... who's going to dance with me... to "A Whole New World" when you sing Aladdin, and I sing Jasmine. You forgot about our song. You weren't doing this for us... you did this for you. And right now, I hate you for it.
  6. "Dad made a mess of things, and went away. And that's a shame really. It's a terrible pity, because we missed each other. Completely."

  7. Yes... LaurynJcat was kind enough to send me some information about groups here in my area. And that has been helpful. I have an email into their cordinator. I am so lucky that Clayton understands, he is so patient with me. I'm a major pain... and he puts up with me.
  8. As I sit here watching the rain from inside my car, I can’t help but think that maybe it is for tears being shed tonight. That each one is a memory that 20 kids won’t ever have. Some good, some bad… But unused and unfairly taken opportunities and memories. There, that one right there, was the feeling of walking into Disneyland as an adult, loving it just as much as a child. And that…That was someone’s first kiss. This one, the moment she said “yes”. Twenty lifetimes worth of memories, raining down on us. I mourn for lives I never knew, and for those I will never know.Now standing in the drizzling rain, I catch drops in my hands, they fall on my face like tears, I am drenched in memories that will never be. I feel selfish for all of my memories, and that yours are falling to the ground like wasted water. Not fertilizing the ground with your life but staining it with pain. Thousands and thousands of drops of water collect in pools. Turning the gutters as dark as the sky, still they fall, alone they will stay, with only the other lost memories to keep them. What have we done? Rain, memories, pain, tragedies. They flow together now, in a sea of hopeless dreams.
  9. Dad: One day you'll miss me. Me (age16): No I won't. I wonder what that made him feel.
  10. Lately, after losing my dad... I have been a real pain to my boyfriend. He puts up with me, but I wish I knew how to go back to the way we used to be... he is so supportive and I am well.... ummm... useless and a bump on a log. I cry for no reason... and he can't do anything but hold me. He annoys me when he never did before... and I get angry at him for things he wasn't even a part of. I need to fix this before I lose him.
  11. God, I wish I knew what to even say here. I wish I knew what to do. If I had, I wouldn't even be here. I wouldn't need to talk to someone either. But I hope things turn out on the up. Hug her. If not for you or her, but for me. Because I wish I could still do that. Sorry, I am a sad mess.
  12. Hi there, I'm Hope. I am new here. Just saying hello while looking around. Not even sure what am doing here... but I know that I need to talk to someone or I will explode. So here I am. 25 from Las Vegas. Hi.
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