(A very rough and unedited draft of what I image a father's day to be like for a certain gal that I know)
She wonders if she'll call him. Sitting, she stares at the phone. A sensation fill her and the notion come to a head. She reaches for her cell, and presses "Contacts."
Suddenly she realizes she's been tricked by sentimentality from her TV's family dramas that have been playing today. She hasn't had his number for years and years; hasn't had anything except for haunting, distant memories.
When she hears he is coming she runs away. When she thinks of her birthdays she can see him on the floor. Most of the time she tries to forget and block out everything. There are times though when she can’t help herself.
She remembers fun tricks played on her brother, conversations at the dinner table, smiles while walking to and fro the bathroom, stuffed animals as gifts from a window accident, TV shows watched from old couches on sick-days, being tucked in bed with a night light, and singing along to rap radio stations in the car.
She remembers yelling and screaming while she tries to sleep, hitting for small rule infractions or not bending to a stronger will, drugs that leave its user passed out or in a daze, glossed over from any external pleading, absence in most moments that seemed important for other families, and yearning to have a part or to have a piece of normalcy.
Even as a little girl she knew something was wrong. Something was not right. Most little girls never seemed this sad or switched school as much as she did.
She is no longer a little girl.
She's tried to fill the void with about as much as one could imagine. Drawings and half completed comics, sex with boys who mean the world but are all just losers, books and mangas that seem just fantastic enough to balance out reality, drugs and alcohol in amounts that should scream to any observer that she wants out of her own skin, music that span every genre and volume dynamic that is full of cynicism, movies that involve bright colors and sad characters, posters that feature all her heros, buttons that display her longing for childhood, clothes that are shiny and standout, bad relationships with friends, parents, and lovers, short-stories that were always meant to be novels, anime obsessions that help her find others which helps her avoid herself, and a desire for a connection with someone that will make her able to forget the past and accept her actions.
Her actions don’t work, and she grows more alone.
She's a girl with a sad face. She has long, dark brown, and straight hair that is soft and flowing and has a scent that drives anyone familiar with it wanting. Her eyes a deep brown that compel one to look into and see that she has more emotion and feeling than could be found in any other girl. The smile she let loose makes one want to profess impossible promises to her that will take whole lifetimes to achieve.
All the while,
She sits resigned at her chair, shell-shocked from the tide of memories and emotions.
With every intention meant to be good, she is resolute:
Sometimes blood is just too thick to swallow.
