I've been posting more this week than I ever expected to post here. It's easier to talk about random, possibly boring stuff with strangers. If they think you're an idiot, they might say so. But there's also a good chance they'll just pass you by, and you won't be any wiser.

There's been this debate swirling around in my head over whether or not I should post about what today means to me. It's random enough for GT, but it's personal. And even if you guys are strangers, I still feel weird about truly letting all the drama out for everyone to see.

But fuck it. I'm gonna do it anyway. Hopefully it will ease this massive tension headache and general feeling of doom and gloom.

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At about a quarter midnight tonight, it will be exactly one year since my dad died. He died in the hospital. He had a seizure, and during the seizure his heart stopped. He was a DNR. His hospitalization was due to liver failure brought on by alcohol and drug abuse.

His wife had called the ambulance to take him the morning of the day he died. He was nearly comatose after three days of lying on the bedroom floor, on a layer of his own filth, with no food and very little liquid. She let him lie on the floor for three days and didn't say anything to anyone. I didn't know it was happening until she called me to tell me he was in the hospital. The last time I talked to him ever was the day before he apparently decided to lie down on the floor. I could hear in his voice that he was drunk, even after he had sworn to my face a week earlier that he was clean and taking care of himself. I was so angry over it that I vowed not to call him for a week, to just let him wallow. Now I can't help but wonder if I had called the next day, or the next, and been told about what was happening, if maybe the outcome would have been different. But I didn't call. I was just too angry.

It's been a year now, and I'm still as angry now as I was then. For the 31 years and 11 months that I had him in my life, it was nothing but drama. Selfishness. Self-centeredness. Mean spiritedness. Lies. And in the year since he died, it has overwhelmed me. About six months before he died, he said to me of his addictions: "It's easier this way. It's better this way." So he gets to take the easy way out, and I'm left behind the pick up the pieces as always.

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Nothing has been settled with his wife, about whom I have ... well, I have some feelings about her. They are too tangled and potentially libelous to get into here.

Right now I am sitting alone in the living room. My boyfriend is 2,000 miles away. My mother is four hours away. I have no siblings. I feel so alone, and so sad. My head hurts. And I'm really, really tired.