dead dad (a poem?)

my dad is dead 

and i am twenty five in two weeks. 

 i feel like an imposter of a human 

everyone has been given direction 

and i am lost 

everything feels so out of my  control 

and yet completely my responsibility

i haven’t done enough 

i haven’t tried enough 

i wasn’t good enough 

it could have happened if id just 

tried harder. 

why do i feel as if every conversation has immense consequence? 

if i choose the wrong option of dialogue 

with people who hardly know me

will they see what i’m actually like

and get scared 

from the get go? 

surely that’s less painful than letting people close

opening up 

forgetting the dialogue options, 

writing my own narrative

only for those that read it

to hate every fucking word. 

my dad is dead 

and i am twenty five in two weeks. 

my dad is dead 

and im jobless at twenty five

my dad is dead 

and my best friends, 

all twenty five 

want nothing to do with me 

my dad is dead 

and im twenty five 

and i have absolutely no clue what im doing 

they say it gets easier 

and things get better 

but at the end of the day 

im still turning twenty five

and my dad is still dead.