October 10th, 2015
He’s here, but not mentally or emotionally. He thinks he does so much, but really he does nothing for me at all. He’s like a piggy bank that has it’s limit. Just money, money has no emotional connection to anyone ever. I finally know what it really means when they say “Money can’t buy you happiness or love”. It sure can’t. It hasn’t. The house. The cars. The beds. The clothes. The food. These materialistic things he says he has worked so hard for, have not satisfied my hunger for the few things I needed most from him. Love, emotional support, an ear to hear me. I’m not being heard. Yes he’s been to graduations, and births, and when I’ve been in trouble at school he’s been my advocate, but what good is all that if at the end of the day I constantly feel like there were no emotions behind those actions. Like he does them because he thinks that’s what he’s suppose to do. I’ll always question for the rest of my life if I am loved paternally, or just a regret that he puts up with. And I feel this way everyday, especially now while I sit here with tears like open flood gates streaming down my face, I wish my mother had just aborted my mission. I wish either I hadn’t been born or that I didn’t know who he was. I just feel like not knowing him would mean being angry at him. Knowing him only brings pain. It’s easier to stop hating someone you don’t know, than to forgive the hurt you feel because of someone you’re naturally obligated to love. But in the way my life has panned out, I practically don’t know him so… I mean I truly have no idea who he really is. Who are you father? Sometimes I wish I could express these feelings, but he once told me we’re alike. Which is why I fear if I told him and he stepped out, he’d never come back. For our hearts are too fragile to withstand that kind of hurt, that I feel, he’d decide to leave this world. I wish I didn’t feel this way. I feel guilty, but it’s not my fault. He didn’t try. He never tried. He’d always work, he’d never talk, his face always looked distant or disinterested. He’d leave everytime we’d have a family discussion about our days. And then he’d feel hurt and want us to put in more of an effort to include him. I did! I did daddy! And you still didn’t try. You didn’t even meet me halfway. I always thought of you. I always tried to include you, talk to you, inform you about the things that went on in my life, about what interested me, what I cared about. Yet it still wasn’t good enough. And today you yelled at me, you told me you do so much and only ask for a little in return. I wanted to scream you don’t do enough. I wanted to say is your love too much to ask? You can say it however many times you want, but if I can never feel it how will I ever know? Will I ever know? Is it too late? I hope you fix it for them. I hope you do better to reverse what’s been done for them, because it’s not too late. But for me I think it is. It is too late, the damage has been done, and I can’t go back, or forget, and only time will help me to forgive and heal. Until then I do love you father, I’m sorry our relationship is the way it is, and I hope time does heal it. I hope it gets better. But I promise I do love you, no matter the hurt, I just, I can’t tell if your love was really true, or just an obligation. Because I feel it is, and your true love for me is out of reach.