smoking, other things

gotta make this one quik.

when my dad found my cigarettes we cried together, i know it sounds sad but we were both sad. i knew i was so young, and actually i had been smoking a year before that, when i was just twelve years old. dad didnt want me to smoke thats why he quit. i used to stand in front of the tv when i was a little girl and ask him, "how come you smoke dad its bad you should stop" he did and now look at all his kids, we all smoke.

my mom found out kinda the same way, i had a pack and my cousin told on me. which no big deal right? my mom just told me to ask her for cigarettes not to hide it, awsome right? why was i still sad? that i still had to have two christmases, arent families supposed to be together for one giant christmas? it wasnt like that, many of places we went should be happy about that too right? not. it upset me, even as a girl i felt that mom should be with us, with her family, her daughters. it dont bother me any more, except between my boyfriend being an ass around the holidays and my family pulling me there, (which the family person i am i usually do go for a weekend or something) fuck i gotta go here in a minute.

the point is, everyone probably thinks that it was perfect, but it WASNT. nothing was fucking perfect about my life. i still hate it. i dont understand why God put me on this green earth to look at beauty that i will never be. Perfection that i can never attain. Pain that never leaves. a fucking hellish life of helping everyone and getting SHIT on. but i still do it, as cold as i am, i still get up and take their hand and try to mend their wounds, try to help them... whatever it is, God, just tell me when im comming Home to heaven or my soul is going to be ripped apart.