Self-indulgent musings of a social retard.

My mom called me to tell me that my father died this morning. I don't know how to react to this news. I hadn't spoken to him in ten years (as I think more about it, I think about ten years to this day.) I kind of hated him. How horrible to say - I realize that, but if I'm being honest, it was purely my choice to cut him out of my life.

He never met my daughter, though I understand from my sister that he did see photos of her. He is the reason she doesn't have my (his) last name.

Maybe I'll feel like writing more about this later. I'm done for now.

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