Celerity
shape without form, shade without colour
- Jan 24, 2021
- 2,733
About your potential suicide? About their lives? Anything?
My dad has lived a very sad, miserable life. His childhood was hell. He was physically abused and degraded. It's a wonder to me that he ended up remotely functional. After learning more about his life as a young child, a lot of his more terrible behavior toward me and my brother made sense. It doesn't excuse what he did, but it provides a ton of context.
As close as I am to my mother now, my dad was the parent I bonded with most and the one I am most like. When I have looked at old pictures of him, I am immediately saddened. You can practically watch as the liveliness evaporates from his eyes as he grows older and life weighs him down. He was a beautiful baby. Perfect facial features. Blonde and blue-eyed. Good proportions. He was incredibly smart and could have done a lot more with his life. Good heart. Would give the shirt off his back for you.
I always wonder how life could have been like for him if it hadn't been so cruel. You can see some of the hope and potential in old pictures when he was a young child.
He was born in 1950. Nice round year. It's basically where modern time begins for me. Whenever I see movies set in the 50s or read about historical events around that time, I think of him. Things were so different then and also very much the same. The struggle for life was as present then during the "happy days" as it is now.
Christine Chubbuck, in my profile pic, was 6 years older than my dad. Barry Kidston, who died from a cocaine overdose after being paralyzed by a bad batch of opioids he synthesized at home, was 3-4 years younger.
They were his contemporaries. At one time, their parents had the same hopes and dreams. My dad had brushes with self-destructive behavior and suicide but had 2 children and is still alive today. I don't know who is better off ultimately. He is happy enough in his senility now. My suicide would definitely change that. I am his favorite child.
So do you feel sorry for your parents? Why or why not?
My dad has lived a very sad, miserable life. His childhood was hell. He was physically abused and degraded. It's a wonder to me that he ended up remotely functional. After learning more about his life as a young child, a lot of his more terrible behavior toward me and my brother made sense. It doesn't excuse what he did, but it provides a ton of context.
As close as I am to my mother now, my dad was the parent I bonded with most and the one I am most like. When I have looked at old pictures of him, I am immediately saddened. You can practically watch as the liveliness evaporates from his eyes as he grows older and life weighs him down. He was a beautiful baby. Perfect facial features. Blonde and blue-eyed. Good proportions. He was incredibly smart and could have done a lot more with his life. Good heart. Would give the shirt off his back for you.
I always wonder how life could have been like for him if it hadn't been so cruel. You can see some of the hope and potential in old pictures when he was a young child.
He was born in 1950. Nice round year. It's basically where modern time begins for me. Whenever I see movies set in the 50s or read about historical events around that time, I think of him. Things were so different then and also very much the same. The struggle for life was as present then during the "happy days" as it is now.
Christine Chubbuck, in my profile pic, was 6 years older than my dad. Barry Kidston, who died from a cocaine overdose after being paralyzed by a bad batch of opioids he synthesized at home, was 3-4 years younger.
They were his contemporaries. At one time, their parents had the same hopes and dreams. My dad had brushes with self-destructive behavior and suicide but had 2 children and is still alive today. I don't know who is better off ultimately. He is happy enough in his senility now. My suicide would definitely change that. I am his favorite child.
So do you feel sorry for your parents? Why or why not?