Why people hurt other people. My father died yesterday. Someone shot him and stole his truck. They killed him over a stupid truck, of all things. They left him to bleed to death in the cold, wet street with no reguard for who he was or what he was leaving behind. I am not an angry or hateful person by nature, my dad used to make fun of the fact I always seemed to be happy no matter what was going on, but I honestly believe I hate the person who did this. Hate them so much that I want them dead, honest to god dead, and I hope their family feels the pain that my family feels.

It is not right that some faceless person should be able to change the lives of so many without a thought.

He was a good man, who loved me and my siblings like we were his chldren and treated me better than my biological or an man my mother dated before did. He did things for us, made time for us, and did whatever we needed without question or hesitation. It hurts so bad and I feel like its some fucked up joke and he's going to come walking into the room laughing any mnute now but at the same time I know he's not. There will be no more jokes or stupid stories or goofiness. He isn't going to play with his daughter anymore, or smile at my mother, and we won't have our talks as he drives me to work anymore. It's all just...gone. He's gone and that is so wrong.

I can't sleep or eat or even talk to anyone else without wanting to cry. I think I'll spend the rest of the night on ONTD where I don't have to think or feel or be apart of this strange, dark, wrong world. Maybe tomorrow everything will be back the way I know it is supposed to be.