When we found my dad he was in his truck
A Ford F-150. That was always his truck.
Suicide.
I’ve had my moments in life contemplation.
I understand the pain that precedes that.
Devastating.
I know he was in pain. Hurting. Stories.
The stories circulate. Gain strength.
Halting.
To feel unlovable. Unheard. Unworthy.
It courses through your bones and body.
Hereditary?
Can it be passed on? Am I too broken?
Is the work I’ve done all for not?
Painful.
I sit in my Ford. Shaking. Tears. Stories.
You will never be enough. Never!
Unrelenting.
The ultimate competition. Me vs my demons.
I know I’ll win but I feel like I’m losing.
Still pushing!

MF