so for some strange reason i go through preiods of time where wrting is the last thing i can bring myself to do. I think perhaps it's because i know that the truth will always comes out when i do write, maybe that's a good thing.
recently i have made contct with my father and a variety of feelings are in me at this time. He is in arizona with his mom trying to figure himself out and is on a journey of self recovery. I could not be happier. I jsut cant help but to feel aprehensive to the fact that i am starting to build a relationship with him. It feels so natural when i talk to him, but it also feels like i'm just getting to know a person, which i suppose in reality i am, i jsut dont like the fact that i have to get to knwo my own father. all in all, i have more to be thankful for than i do to complain about. god knows why i have live with this that's all that matters. I just wish i could muster up the will to call him like i've been telling him i would for the past week. Something about his voice brings me back to the summers spent camping all the time and him baiting my hook and cheering me on while i pulled in a huge fish something about it just makes me remember the good. why does that scare me so much?
anywho. i've lost five pounds. i'm on my way.
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