I forgot I wrote that blog. It says 11am but it always posts with the time you start it and I don't think I posted it until around lunch time. None of that morning matters anymore.

Everything in my life from now on will be split into BDD and ADD. Before Dad Died and After. Fuck. FUCK.
It's not fair. He was 58. FIFTY EIGHT.

What's the point of trying to be a good person if this is all it gets me?
Why us?
Everytime I see an old person I get bitter. Everytime I see an old person who's morbidly obese I get a little more bitter. Everytime I see an old person who's a dick I just want to fucking kill them. Why do you get to live?

I'm angry and I'm sad and ever since my mom said the words "He didn't make it" I've felt like someone punched a hole in my chest.

And soon I'll go back to work and I'll be dealing with some asshole on the phone burning some CD for a spoiled musician and everything will be back to normal. But it won't be. Because Daddy's gone.
Fuck.