Sometimes I forget that he's gone and I
think, perhaps I should give him a call. Then other times it is the
forefront of my thoughts. The very most important thing on my mind. I
often weep about it still. Though the other day I had a realization
that I could not hold back the visuals on regardless of desire.
They say that the eyes are the windows
to the soul, some say that they are the doors even. Well, my father
shot himself in the face, and his head exploded. Something that I see
in my mind every day. It doesn't matter that I wasn't there, today's
Hollywood doesn't leave much to the imagination and I have a very
vividly graphic imagination. The realization I came to the other day
was that if he blew his face off his beautiful eyes probably exploded
as well. His eyes were such a crystalline blue, they would have been
absolutely perfect had the whites not been tinted yellow from the
alcohol he drank.
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