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Today I was reminded about my dad and it's got me thinking tonight even though I said I was going to try and sleep earlier. I told the person who reminded me that I have no memories of him, but as I was saying it I was recalling the one memory I do have. It is so easy for me to lie because I don’t want to tell the truth. Abuse is so hard to talk about even though it needs to be. It's so funny sometimes when people assume I have a dad or two parents because I see their perception of me change in real time. I've had to deal with death longer than most people my age and I guess that's surprising to others. I'll be 21 soon and my grief will be 16, maybe 17. It's old and I still feel it. I'm not sure if I went through any stages of grief besides acceptance. By the time I started school he was already dead. I don't think there's any room for argument or doubt when you've known that since the time you knew anything.
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