Today is my father’s birthday. Unfortunately he passed away back in 1977 when I was 9 leaving me scarred for life. I know you don’t care. Everyone had one at one point and nobody gives a damn if yours is dead or alive. But that’s not the point.
I don’t remember much about him and I miss him more than anything. It sucks growing up without one. I remember the day he died. I was begging god to not let him die. So much for that. Something like that is not supposed to happen to me. Still that’s not the point either.
I don’t know what the point is anymore. I just wanted to pretend he’s still here and wish him a happy birthday.