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Monday, August 16

Papa Vulture

Dozens of songs.

Dozens. Albums worth. It’s a whole boxed set of greatest hits and deepest cuts and festering wounds.

And they’re all about you. They’re all about retraining myself not to want your approval, not want your love, not even look for a  “that’s my girl”. They are all these optimistic little ballads about being resilient and learning how to be loved by some other broken person.  All about how you taught me that I had to be compliant and bendy and how I’m trying not be that little girl just tugging on everybody’s shirt sleeves begging them to acknowledge and appreciate me because I couldn’t ever tug on yours and hear you say my name (not even in anger). Every one of them is a run on sentence with all the ten dollar words I could muster.

You liked big words. You still like big words. You were always so proud of their good grades and their big words and the pictures they drew. You talked about being the savior of all these poor young women who got in a tough spot. How you told them Jesus loved them and you paid their rent and you of course never made them feel less than. 

You dropped off the face of the Earth when your ex-wife and the courts let you. Then you reappeared with your inheritance and god knows what other money and just bought us cars. 

$17,459.68

That’s how much money I paid you back - to the penny. I didn’t want your guilt gift. Mostly because you gave the insurance lady the wrong redhead’s name and I swear to this day that it was on purpose just to break me a little bit more. 

How many times did I ask you why? I know I lost count. How many times did you just drone on and on over me like I wasn’t even there.

I want to be free of you. I don’t want to write anymore songs about how bad I am at letting someone love me, about how I feel branded with this giant target telling all the other vultures where you left my carcass.

But I’m still a little redhead tugging on your damn sleeve wondering if you’ll ever make me feel worthy of fucking  anything good in this world. I might always be.

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