Burgers

My dad wrote back again. This is the second exchange between us. I just want to cry right now because he's hurt, and he didn't expect for all of this to happen and my mum and he were re-negotiating the terms for divorce at the time so he was out of his mind antagonized and stressed. He expected me to call the next day. He has a shitty way of wording "if you want to talk, call." Kind of different meaning from "call when you're ready to have a relationship." But fuck, man. Two years. Because my mom wanted more money from him, because he don't want to give it, because of a few fucked up words.
This is so hard to do. I've never had to patch up anything before, let alone something like this. It makes me want to be sick, it makes me want to go back to the simple and subtle hurt of nothingness. This shouldn't be so fucking herd, I don't want it to be. I don't like it. But I want to be able to talk to my dad again. I want him to come to my graduation. I want him to visit me in san francisco sometimes. I want to talk to him about his business travels, and I guess about me and about all that bat-shit philosophy he believes in. He never got why I wanted to talk about him so much when I was a kid.  It's because I don't really know him that much. I never got a solid picture of my dad, I think at least a bit of it is leeched off of my friend's fathers, after third grade, when he wasn't around anymore, thats when I think a lot of kids started forming pictures of their parents as individuals rather than the god-like enigma they so often are to children.
I can't even think about it right now. I can't even process the letter. I don't know if I want to. What I want to do is go eat shitty mcdonald's burgers at a park with someone.