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Why O Why

My little girl was three and so cute and good and pure. Her mother was on the street doing what she had to to get what she needed. I was trying to peddle cheap trinkets on the street, and failing miserably. I had a monkey on my back and no place to unload it. The world was closing in on me and I could not find a way out, no escape routes, no doors to smash down and escape through, nothing.
I was letting my child down. I could not provide for her or even me. My bike was running on empty and the road ahead was bleak. I did not even fit into the cracked up world I was living in.

I found a place for her, but I was not welcome...more nails in my coffin.
I was riding a little later trying to get things straight. It was dusk. There was this long curve around the USAF base in the town we lived in and I was riding it, not sure what to do about anything. It had been a long time since my last hit and everything was just getting too much to deal with. I drifted into the oncoming lane. There was a car coming at me.
I looked at the grill, then my eyes wondered up to the drivers. The thoughts that ran through my addled brain were desperate and suicidal. I should just end it all, drop a gear and wheelie into the grill of that asshole driving at me.
I was still looking into his eyes, they were getting bigger and bigger. I saw my beautiful daughter in them. All of a sudden, he changed into her. His face, now hers. I pulled the bike into my own lane. The guy just stared at me as we passed each other, his eyes filled with fear, anger and questions. His eyes were the same color as my little girls. I was so numb that I only kept riding on.
Riding, a little while later, I was so low in depression that the unknown of death seemed better than the torture that I was going through. I was not scared of living or even of dying. I just did not want to go through the pain of living any more.

She was so innocent, my little girl, so trusting. I was going out and doing stupid stuff. Her eyes would light up when I would get her. Love flowed from her smile and I was betraying it. What good was I as a father, as a man? I was sure she would be better off without me.
How did I keep going? Why should I breath air? The thought of her eyes smiling at me was part of it. Not knowing what would happen to my little girl, did indeed scare me into living.
I made it through that self destructive chapter in my life. I found strength in myself. I still feel bouts of depression, but at least now I have a better defined purpose. I still ride, but the desire to paint the hood of a car with my blood has never been so powerful, and I still have that beautiful smile that brightens even my darkest days.



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