a character in the book i'm currently reading says that she believes her father is writing her letters out of guilt.
he writes notes of his life: his wife, his children...essentially his new family to her every month or so.
she hasn't seen him in about 10 years.
something twisted inside me.
he actually writes to her.
he probably doesn't know what to say,
where to start.
and then i thought of you.
it makes sense, you're my dad.
i think of you in situations like this.
it made me wonder why you don't write.
why even facebook isn't small enough a window
for you to initiate a superficial relationship with me.
you don't feel guilty.
you don't feel guilty to write to me dated reports
of your life. of your wife.
and that really sucks.
i'd say it sucks for you, but i really don't think it does.
'cause it looks like you really don't care.