This is why I can’t stay home. I sit there and watch these horrific chick flicks and then I start over analyzing my life. I look at the things I have lost and missed out on and it is really just dumb.

Today I watched the movie “Definitely, Maybe”. Sure, it was about two hours of my life that I get to just chalk up, but then something else happened. I started thinking maybe I could learn something from this film.

My first thought was on love and divorce. I was thinking that maybe it happens because people just can’t grow together. One person grows this way and the other either stays in place or grows the opposite way. Could it be that there really isn’t the perfect person for us, but it comes down to the perfect person for that time in our life?

Then, if you haven’t seen the movie, the one chick has all these copies of the book Jane Eyre.  For her 13th birthday her dad gave her a copy of the book and inscribed something in it. He died three weeks later and the book went missing. Of course you know the dude finds it and love love love…puke puke puke…but I started thinking, “when I turned 13, what book would my dad have given me?”

Would I have appreciated the book?

I only have two gifts I know my dad picked out for me. Neither one of them were a book nor do I have those gifts now.

I know the man is dead. He has been dead for almost 25 years. But I am still searching for him. I keep thinking that if I could only just understand this man, maybe I would understand me. All I have of him are a few photos, some rejected stories and some false memories. I have no books that were his. There is no jewelry that he wore. I have fragments of fragments of him.

Maybe I should stop looking. He isn’t coming back and nothing can take that away. If he lived, I wouldn’t be the person I now am today. I should live in the now and stop looking in the past. Those things won’t help me.

Yet, those feelings still persist. I want to know who that man was because I can’t stand thinking someone who I am connected to by blood lived in this world, and yet, I can’t explain much about him.

I will never know what book he would give me. I will never meet the girl I would have been if he didn’t die. Yet, I am still looking for it.

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