Tomorrow...

It's your birthday tomorrow and I'm feeling, just, angry.

I feel like screaming. All I have left of you is a box full of fucking ashes and I want my father back! Why can't you be here to talk to? Why are you gone now, when I seem to be needing you the most?

I would like, just once, to be able to print one of these letters and mail it to you. I want you to be on your boat and getting your mail at the post office and buying pizza on the weekends and taking walks and calling me on sundays to tell me about your latest adventure and then make me laugh and say "well, I made you laugh, I can say goodnight now" and make me feel like I'm your daughter and I mean so much to you.

I can't have any of that now that you're gone.