The world, in the way I have always viewed it, had so suddenly changed, that even I, who always knew what to say, was finally at a loss for words. It really should have been no big surprise, honestly, but when I finally saw the proof, with my own eyes, I couldn't help but release the sobs that had trapped themselves in my throat. The tears that have been waiting for years to be released fell down my cheeks in uneven and staggering patterns. The conscientious, level-headed thought process that I have always been known for was gone, because all that I could hear, feel, taste and touch was the hurt; the disappointment. And for the hours after, all that I knew, all that I thought about was that letter to her.

The words 'Dear Jill,' will always be etched in my head and that hatred towards the name will forever burn inside my body, running through my veins. And it seems almost pathetic, that a woman whom I had never met could cause me such pain. But she wasn't alone because every time words fall out of his mouth or I hear that stupid laugh, I want to hit him, hard, in the gut, knocking all wind out of him so he has no idea what to do, so he would be just as lost and confused as I was; am. I want to scream 'F**k you!' at the top of my lungs for ruining my whole perception of family, for making me hurt, cry, bleed. I want to completely forget you were ever apart of my life because the one man who should never hurt me did. And the word father; dad, makes me want to cringe, vomit, because I can't even stand to look at him without bitter vile filling my throat.

And as these words fill the page on a blank word document, I can't help but hate Microsoft, because it's a permanent memory of what I'd rather forget. I can't help but hate language in its entirety because every single time I try to write how I feel about this, about him, I can't. Pent up rage fills my bones, preventing me from forming any coherent thought, and no matter how much I try, my blatant hate towards him, towards the world fills up every crevice of my body that I can no longer type.

And when this happens, I want to die. In my mind, it would solve everything, but nothing at the same time. Sometimes I so badly want for everything to be all over, because these last four hellish years of my life have given me nothing to look forward to. And sometimes all I really want is someone to talk to, honestly, someone who would listen, because I am sick of talking to friends who seem supportive but are too uncomfortable to ever bring it up again. I just want someone. Someone who doesn't think that doesn't hold me on a pedestal and then tell me that I think I'm better than everyone else. I want someone who doesn't know me but is willing to. I want to go somewhere else, beyond the limits that time and space has set up for me. And I just want to be.