Papa Jim.

I haven't really thought about him in a while. I think it's probably better that way. But saying that just makes me feel like a bad person.

Thinking about him...it isn't that I don't want to think about him. More the way he died. It confuses me. The logistics of it aren't what confuses me, it's just everything that surrounds the situation.

Am I jealous? I don't really think so. I'm past that stage of my life...for the most part. I just want answers, really. Am I also afflicted? Is my mom? She would never admit it. Not it a million years. But I just want to know. Before I grow up to be a monster. Before I end up like her.

Why of all people would he come to my dad? Sure, they might have been close, but there's not that blood relation like with my mom. I don't know who it was with Evie...but if it was him that doesn't sit well with me. Did she ever even meet him? That's my grandfather.

Of course, he didn't come to my mom 'cause she doesn't believe. She won't let herself. Maybe he didn't come to me so obviously, but I know he's been here. Noises when I'm alone in my room. Getting that eerie feeling that someone's sitting in the rocking chair he gave me when I'm reading at night. But when I put down the book; no one. I'm alone. But not really.

I don't believe in Heaven. I don't believe in God. But I do believe in something else, like a spirit, so to say. My beliefs contradict normal society. But they're mine. They don't have to be anyone else's.

I guess this is why I haven't really thought about him in a while. Because I just get left with more questions.