But why did you? That's all I want to know. Why?

Relaxing morning. I love Saturday mornings when I wake up to the sun filtering in through my bedroom window, diffusing the room with a soft whiteness, far better than the harsh yellow glow of a lightbulb. It produces the sort of calm in me that I relish. The kind of calm I can think peacefully in.

I realize today that I forgot to tell you if he wrote back. Do I honestly need to? Isn't it that obvious? I predicted it on the spot, and even before I mailed it anyway. He hasn't, he didn't, he won't. Should I, really, be surprised? No. But it still hurts, even if I already knew the truth, even if I already knew what he would do (or rather, wouldn't do).

...

Daddy dearest, daddy dearest, did you run away from me?

Yes I did, spawn of Satan, for that's all you'll ever be.
...

I still want to show up at his house one day in the summer, and see what he does. I am even, insanely, imagining spending a month there, like they do in movies, a month where I can pretend like this is just a vacation amongst strangers, and he can do whatever he likes. Silly, I know. I won't do it, but I won't be able to avoid imagining it. For instance, I even imagine that, while down there, I would get in the research I've been wanting, and finish my book, and ride my bike all over town, etc. The possibilities of what I might do are endless. The reality of what I will do is also predictable. But I don't need to get into that, it's too obvious. He just makes it impossible to forget about him when all I ever hear is nothing, when all I ever get is silence. He walks away - repeatedly, and then expects me not to follow. I can't stand silence, though. I truly cannot. I'll be grasping for something forever until I get the true confirmation of why he won't talk to me, of why he ignores. I know why, but I can't stop until he tells me. I can't stop until I hear it from him, and not my mother, not my stepdad, but him. I need to know why, or I'll never stop, I don't think.

Anyway, I'll leave off of this subject, and listen to this song instead. It's remarkably calming, and has a nice memory attached. A very nice memory, regardless of the actual subject of the song. I especially love the guitar at the beginning, and when Mayer sings so quietly, it blends into perfection, leaves rustling on the wind, a creek gurgling down - away. It just works, is all.