They call me ribsplitter

my biggest 2024 breakthrough: discovering that scarecrows aren't real. crops are just SO much easier to steal now. i used to pull up one or two turnips and run off, but i'm not scared anymore. the only challenge ahead of me in 2025 is to keep from eating so many turnips i give myself a stomach ache

Twitter wont let me reciprocate unity with my fellow girlies

ガヴィトミ
🐊♡🐊
（とズゥママ→Lancet-2）

花火の音でワニは…発情するっ🐊🐊

I opened up topster for the first time this year and i saw a list i made like jan 4th last year. Wtf was i thinking about???

Happy birthday and happy deathday dad

I dont think this is going to be the last time i ever talk about my dad, but it'll be the only time i ever describe the experience i had to endure in detail. I have within me equal parts love and hate of him that mix into a sour feeling in my soul that keeps from feeling good just saying i hate him

I get to keep all of this bottled in because im surrounded by people who think the balance of good and bad is on a scale and they've tipped it in the wake of my dad's death. I say its more like chemistry, all the good he did is tainted and diluted by every time he threatened violence on someone

I have had maybe a handful of dreams across 357 days of 2024, ones where the car shop gets converted into a grocery spot and we lose our home, me and my surviving family fall into a giant crack in the road and die, etc etc. This is my only one with my dad.

My one dream of him this year was in march, where as i was entering the room, i turn to see him suddenly. He starts talking to me, but its complete gibberish like his vocal chords were shredded. Gradually, he starts molting and melting into this monstrous mass of flesh and bone, devouring me

Across 2024, my family has had several dreams where he was there and he was a comforting presence. Offering advice or guidance in their time of need. He gives us lotto numbers or w/e. His spectral presence can be "felt" protecting our household from the afterlife, looking out for us.

Everyone else has whatever good memories they have of him and they're conten to live with those memories as much as they want. I cant live like that. All i see of him is when he'd casually and thoughtlessly hurt people. All of his kindness and love is overshadowed by his cruelty for me.

He once got into an argument with my sister where he threatened to beat her over the head with the reinforced steel padlock we use to lock the front door of the car shop. Anytime this year my sister broke down and cried about our dad missing events, i see him gripping the padlock like brass knuckles

He once got into an argument with my mom that ended with him destroying a bunch of shelving in our fridge at the time and strangling my mom. Any story of him i hear from my mom, funny, happy, whatever, i just see the mental image of him choking her out

He was incredibly macho to a self-destructive degree and was upset when i didnt meet that standard. Too proud to ever see himself as anything other than correct in all of his actions, regardless of the pain he inflicted onto others. Not at all quick to use violence, but it wasnt off the table.

I think the only tears i had to give were during the funeral, where for the last time i would see my dad before he got cremated and turned into ash. Theres this emptiness and strangeness everything i try to figure out how i feel about my dad, before and especially after he died.

I went back to sleep and did so for the entire day and night. I usually dont have dreams and i didnt get to have one that entire time either. I kept coming in and out, hearing outside people stopping by to give their condolences for our loss.

There was dirt and grime all over the floor that was tracked in by the paramedics and police. My dad was gone and it was over, but all the signs were marked everywhere. By the time it was over, i was so tired. I had gone to sleep at 8am and woke up at 12pm, i only had 4 hours of rest inside me.

From there it was mostly a blur. We came back inside the room, they tossed his blanket onto my mom's bed. There was blood on my mom's sheets from when someone extubated him and nobody cared not to let the blood-covered tube not touch anything.

The horror took over again for my mom and sister when they were wheeling out my dad, wrapped and tied in a cocoon of his bed sheets with the bag they were supposed to put him in just sorta laid over him. He was an incredibly obese man and probably didnt fit or noone had to strength to get him inside

All there was to do was wait for funeral services to arrive and grab up my dad, and then everyone would leave, police included this time. Everyone entered mourning mode and started reminiscening about the good old times with my dad. I couldnt take part in that personally.

My brother arrived from up north where he was at a party with his wife when he got called. He moved the last car in the way as i was parking the fourth one. Everyone converged in the clinic parking lot: my mom, sister, brother, his wife, and my dads friends. They all just stood in silence and horror

Fourth car needed to be jumpstared, opening the hood and putting in jumper cables with a makeshift battery starter my dad fashioned out of just another car battery and bespoke cables he tore off an actual battery starter that he broke weeks prior to his death. Drove it out and parked it elsewhere

First car in the way was the cops sedan that they had to move into the street, great start. Second car was this rusted out vintage 50s car my dad was restoring that required three people to push and move into the adjacent parking lot. A few of my dad's friends came by after my mom told them the news

One last gift, moving five cars out of the way of the main gate of the car shop to the parking lot of a small plastic surgery clinic thats across the street. I hadnt had time to sit on the fact my dads gone and i had to do the dumb bullshit we always get up to so they can get his body out of there

I've spent most of my adult life having to essentially maintain a non-paying job as a mechanic's assistant to my dad, pushing and moving cars and feeling like i have to break my body against all manner of broken down pieces of shits on wheels. And now, with my dad gone, i gotta go do it again.

They gave a card to a funeral service to my mom to set it up immediately because there were no plans in place for if this would happen. Another issue was one of getting my dad's body out of there. The paramedics were supposed to do it, but with all the cars in the way it was an impossibility.

I kept wondering whether we would lose our home as well as my dad that day, seeing the two officers just sorta hanging around our living space. Eventually the news comes and the paramedics gave up on my dad, pronouncing him dead. The paramedics packed up and left, leaving the two police guys there

Me and my mom and sister were forced to sit outside in the garage area while paramedics attended to my dad and while police were buzzing around our living space. Just before they came, we had to change out of our clothes to make it look like we just arrived to the car shop to find my dad like that

At the time my dad died, there were at least 15 cars inside of the fenced lot of the car shop, all tightly packed in, which made it difficult for anyone to move in and out. Paramedics were forced to hold up most of their stuff while passing through what little space there was for passage to and from

In the front of the car shop is a small lot for storing and parking vehicles. My dad over the years had taken advantage of this space to fit as many broken and nonrunning cars as possible due to a contract he had with a rich guy to essentially buy and hold cars for him. The lot is empty nowadays