Shit's been real, yo.

Life is so strange. My dad has tried to kill himself twice in the past few weeks. The first time he tried to drink himself to death (which he tried before when I was around 11 or 12) but this last time, he tried to suffocate himself with a plastic bag.

That's fucked up.

For me, the drinking yourself to death is kind of a cop out. You get to get too messed up to really realize what your doing and then your just gone. I was pissed when I found out he did it again. I'm so angry at him. I've spent my whole childhood trying to make him proud of me so that he'd notice me and my entire adult life thus far pissed off at him because he still won't actively participate in my life. So I decided this past year, when he started drinking again, that I wasn't going to put up with it anymore. I don't want someone like that in my life, biological father or not. I separated our blood relationship and my last name from the equation and found that if someone treated me the way he does, I wouldn't put up with it at all. So I stopped talking to him. I guess a part of me had an idea that maybe he'd miss me and want me in his life, but that did not happen. I knew it wouldn't but I guess holding onto hope is one thing I've always been good at. My dad's side of the family isn't exactly in the Shelley fan club right now.

All of this has made me think about death again so soon after my uncle's funeral. I can't help but think about it now. I would not want to die here. If I decided I was going to kill myself, I would never do it here. I'd go somewhere beautiful. I wouldn't want my last sights in this life to be four walls or the smoke from the mill. I'd want to be in the mountains breathing clean air and seeing the sky and the stars; I'd want to be on a beach or in a forest. Not in Granite fucking City.

My aunt said something to me last night at the hospital about the "Clark" gene. That, needless to say, terrified me. What the hell does that mean? That one day I'll just realize I'm a Clark and jump off a building? Or that I'll look so hard for myself in the bottom of a bottle that I'll never come back up? I do not deserve to be compared to him. I'm not him and to be honest, he's never liked me anyway.

I have never wanted to run away so badly in my life before. I just want stability and I feel like I'll never be at peace here. Everywhere I turn, my reality is there to find me and bite me in the ass. My heart is pulling me west. I loved my time in the mountains. They make me feel safe; like they'll protect me or something. I have a handful of good people in my life that I trust right now. All I want to do is pull away from everything because I don't want to hurt anymore. I don't want to be abandoned, I don't want anyone to take advatage of me, and I don't want to care too much about anyone because it will end the same as it always does.

Me hurting and alone because I've shut everyone else out.