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| It Isn't Fair... 2002, February 28 - 10:34 p.m.
I'm at Brent's house. This is the only reason I'm writing this, or am able to. The phone got disonnected. Dad didn't pay his bills. Dad also hasn't been paying rent. Dad is near being broke. Dad has a problem. He called Aunt Ann Marie last night and asked if she would take Jamie. He has been making cryptic remarks about starting a life somewhere else or of taking his own life. He has aluded to slitting his wrists and other such things... I'm his daughter, he's my only parent. I don't want to be orphaned. I want a normal life...And Jamie. What of Jamie? He will feel so abandoned. As it stands, I think Dad has a month left in that place. I was lead to believe they are being evicted. My life is falling apart. Jamie's life is falling apart. I was at the mall when Dad told me all of this, the phone, the house, living with Aunt Anne-Marie. I nearly broke down in the food court. I went to my aunt soon after I finished a quick cry in a bathroom stall. We cried in each other's arms. She's a sweet, compassionate woman. As she put it, she is her brother's keeper. He is beyond lucky to have such a sister. He was never meant to be a father. I know this. In his own private mind, I think he knows this. He just can't do it. I think children were a result of his marriage, not his own personal desire to have kids. He would do it with a partner, he would do it semi-long distance as a divoriced parent. He cannot do it alone. He just isn't able to do it. It's a personal failing for him; I'm seeing him more as a fallen man now, than as my father. I don't know what will happen from here. I don't know about anything. I feel like I'm driving in the dark with no lights or beams, unsure of what I will hit or miss. I feel scared and uncertain. I feel instability. I don't know what to do. I can't even call my friends. There is no phone. I'll be able to e-mail again on March 3. I'll have my Oakville phone on March 3. I'll have something... When I'm on my own, when I get married, when I have children, I'm weighing each decision I make with care. This will never happen again. Not to me, not to my future husband and most certainly, not to my children. This isn't right. It isn't fair. Thank You - 2006, June 7
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