I would just like to rant for a little bit here…
My Papa died when I was 3. I was so young, but I remember him. He is my guardian angel, the key to my happiness. If he had been alive I would never need to lead this kind of life, trust me. Life would have been much better for me. I would be pampered, so loved, so spoiled maybe. Sometimes I wish to run outside and scream at God, why? Why does God want me to lead such a dark life instead?
I was just 3, damnit, what sin could I have committed so badly that God decided for me to lead this kind of life.
I know I might sound like a baby, but my Papa is the best father ever. He is the ONLY one who has EVER truly loved me. I remember him so clearly, though I was only 3.
And the irony? The irony is that how I wish the one dead 14 yrs ago was not Papa. I wish it was my mom. I even had to flinch while typing that word. That woman is never a mother to me. It’s a long story.
I’ll rant again some other time.