Letter 4

Hey, Dad!
     I haven't written to you in about a week and I'm starting to feel guilty about that. I just haven't made myself carve out time to do it. You know what, that's not entirely true. Writing you makes me feel feelings and face issues, so I wasn't interested in doing either. To be completely transparent, it's a lot easier to do all of these things without feeling anything at all. I 'numb-out' when I come to your room because I can't imagine how I would be able to control all of my emotions if I let them out. I 'numb-out' when people ask me about you. Sometimes I just don't want to talk about you. Really. Sometimes I just want to go back to when I was just focused on me and Cammy. But, if I say that aloud, I'm a horrible person. Whatever.
     Man, I love you so much, dad. I really do. I have that 'I-love-you-so-much-daddy-can-you-pick-me-up' kind of love. Remember when you used to pick me up? Remember when I couldn't hold your hand so I grabbed your finger? I remember that. Remember when I took one of your 8-track tapes and used it as a necklace? Well, I don't remember that, but you do and you tell me that story all of the time.
     I love how much we are alike. In fact, I learned the 'numb-out' skill from you. I just realized that because when I went to visit you today, we really didn't talk but I know we had so much to say. You did ask me to wipe your face, though. I liked that. I also like spoon feeding you. It's kinda weird to say that, but I really do.
   Dad, I really wish with everything in me that you didn't have to go through this. I hate to see you like this. I hate it. I want to pick you up and take you out of the bed and run. I hate this! I hate all of this! I want to punch walls and people. I hate doctors! They don't know anything. I mean they go to school to do nothing but guess. They guess with our lives, dad. They are guessing with your life and I hate it! I see them walk in the hallway and I just want to scream! They SUCK! They can't do anything for you. They just want to make you comfortable enough to pass away.
     This is why I haven't been writing you. I am angry now. I don't like this feeling. I don't like any feeling except, for happiness. Right now, I would love to just be happy. How selfish is that, though? You can't even feed yourself, but I have the audacity to want to be happy. I'm sure you feel worse than I do. I can't begin to imagine how you must feel. Just last week you were walking in your apartment. Now you are in the hospital.
     Man, dad, I've got to stop writing right now. If I continue, I won't be able to sleep again tonight.
I love you with everything in me.
-Tina