my daughter died last night.

My daughter died last night.

Right in front of me, after all these years she finally looked towards me as though I was the Father and not some stranger screwing her dad. Some stranger who let her live in his house. Some stranger who shouted at her. Some stranger who hurt her dad. Some stranger who never wanted her.

I never wanted her.

Not in this world.

Not in this life.

But I wanted Him. Always Him. Always comes back to him, doesn’t it? Him and those god forsaken mood switches. Him and those eyes. Him and the way he could ignore me for days, weeks, maybe months if I stayed around long enough to find out. Him who loved her. Him who went mad and took it out on me. Him who, overtime lost his accent. Him who wasn’t loved by his own mother. Him who watched his brother die.

I watched him die.

I watched her die.

I watched my daughter die last night.

And yet, for the first time. I couldn’t look at Him. I just watched her. I couldn’t look away. Didn’t want to look away. Didn’t want to forget a single detail about her. About her suffering. About her life. Her life with us. About her death.

Maybe if I stared at her long enough, I could see all the horrors she’s seen in this life.

Maybe if I watched her fresh rot, crisp, decay, I could find a reason to live.

Maybe if I looked her in the eye, I’d see just how much she did love me.

Maybe if I glanced at my lover, I’d see Him lose his mind again.

And this time, I’d have no choice but to join Him in the madness.

our daughter died last night.

my daughter died last night.