By: J. Smith – 2019
Page 1
I’m not even sure why I am doing this. My therapist told me that I should start cataloging my feelings in a blog or something. I don’t know. It just really seems silly to me. I don’t even know what to write. There’s just so much. Maybe something will come to me. We’ll see.
– Emily
Page 2
It’s been two weeks and I stare at this book for nearly an hour each day. This is hopeless.
– Emily
Page 3
Four months, Dad. It’s been four months and I’m so lost. What I wouldn’t give…
Page 4
I’ve been released from the hospital.
Dad, I’m sorry.
– Emily
Page 5
I’m not sure how to look at myself in the mirror anymore. I’m not even sure that I want to. “One day at a time.” That’s why my group keeps saying. “One day at a time.” How can I start over when it’s been the same day over and over since you died, Daddy.
I’m so tired.
– Emily
Page 6
I’ve started opening the curtains again. That was…painful. Not as bad as the withdrawals, obviously, but still. It’s taken a few days to adjust to daylight again, but I saw you, Daddy, out on the lawn. I knew it was you. I’m not sure what you wanted, but I think you wanted me to be okay.
I’m not okay.
Come back…
Page 7-9
(Heavily graffitied and unidentifiable)
Page 10
This isn’t the greatest of ideas, but it’s the only one I’ve got. It’s better than going to the hospital again.
– Emily
“A Murder Before Breakfast”
Dad spent the better part of his life feeding those birds. Every morning at 7:00AM, in sickness or in health, he’d be out there in his chair feeding the crows. He had names for them all and they even seemed to understand that it was their names when he’d call the individually to make sure each one of them had gotten something to eat.
I used to sit and watch from the kitchen window as the same seven crows would hop around him and squawk and call at him to toss whatever treat he had for them that morning. There was even one of them, that would actually jump onto his crossed leg and take the food directly from his hand. As crazy as I sometimes thought he was, the smile on his face when he came back into the kitchen was always worth it. When I asked him why he did it, he told me it was the reward of patience.
I didn’t understand that then, but I would eventually…and it saved my life.
The Malignant Narcissism 