If you just had a clear box, you’d know that Schrodinger’s cat is alive and very confused.
Growing up as a military brat, on a military base, you’re surrounded by other kids who all know exactly how you feel when it comes to the hardship of your father going off to war. It was comforting. Having all these people my age, were all going through the same thing. We all had that bond. Which is why there wasn’t as many cliques in my high school. We all kinda understood each other, but it was mostly unspoken and subconscious.
Girls especially had that bond. It’s hard to find a girl on base that isn’t a full on ‘Daddy’s Girl’. I mean, after all, our Daddy’s are our Heros. They’re the supermen of our lives before any young boy could try to be.
But one thing I’ve always resented was that I didn’t have that. My dad isn’t my hero. I love him unconditionally. But he isn’t a good man. He’s done horrible things to my family and myself. He’s angry. He’s hurtful. But he’s my dad. So when I see all the pictures of homecomings after a long deployment, I cry because I’m happy for my friends to get their hero back. I’m happy that my friends have a hero. A strong wonderful man they can always go to. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t envious. And a bit bitter. Like, why can’t I have that?
it’s been like two years and her impression of gwen stefani makes me cry every damn time
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how can u say u are not pretty when u are a cluster of stardust, a walking explosion of nebulas like there are constellations that knot your arteries together, you’re beyond pretty, more like a spectacular sight for all of us