My Angel, my father

I woke up to finish up my book. It was just 10 in the evening and I was asleep. As I woke up, I saw the Angel mirrored in the mirror, the Angel my mother made for me. He’s there for one night now and what a night he had passed!
I woke up thinking of my father again – lately, he keeps appearing in my dreams and by now I couldn’t figure it out why.
I woke up thinking: this is who I wanna be? No alcohol, no craziness whatsoever will prevent me from feeling “that”. I’ve been crumbling day in and day out, I’ve been refusing to face the reality every fucking moment with the only hope that it will, eventually, go away. Well, it doesn’t. It’s been almost a year, so I’m rushing towards something, some kind of closure, anything. It doesn’t come, I knew it wouldn’t, but what if I don’t actually need it?