21/365: Dear Dad

This is a letter for you.
A letter that will never make it to your way.
A letter filled with words that you will never hear, words close to my heart—words I’m too afraid to say.

I’m afraid of your reaction.
I’m afraid of the affect it will have on you, because I know you’re trying to be strong too, and it’s not fair.
I’m afraid.
Of my own vulnerability.
If I never try I will never know, but I also don’t know if I ever will be strong enough.
I might wait until it’s too late.

I’m going to start off by saying I love you.
I have always loved you and will always love you no matter what shit we go through and what shit you pull.
You are stubborn, you have it your way and you don’t listen.
I want what would be the best for you, but you have other ideas on what that looks like.
I want the best for you, but you don’t.
You want the best for me.
I wish you would be able to see that what’s good for you is good for me too, and would make me over the moon.
But I guess you don’t realize that and it’s not fair for me to blame you.
I want to blame you for everything, but it only makes me cry even more.

I wanted to hate you so bad, I didn’t want anything to do with you.
But the truth is, I’m more like you than anyone else.
I hate it.
But I love it.
I love that I get to be the closest to you, to carry a piece of you with me, always.
I hate that it reminds me of you, and the fast that you left.
It reminds me of what we used to have and how we used to be.

I hate that you’re good to me.
I wish you would be the shady asshole that I pictured you to be.
I wish you pushed me away, not pull me in from a distance.
I hate how you still show that you are the childish self you were before you left.
I hate how you show that you love me.
I hate how you show that you want to be with us, too, but your pride and principles get in the way.

I tell people that it doesn’t bother me.
I tell people that I should care but I don’t.
I tell people that it’s okay, that I don’t even remember. That it was such a long time ago. It was 6 or 7 years ago.
But truthfully, all those years seem like nothing.
All those years I feel like nothing has changed, but so much is different now
I still remember the day he left.
No discussion, no nothing. No closure, no reason.
I think that’s what hurt the most, that there was no reason.
The reason kept to himself because he didn’t want to share. He didn’t want to let us in.
He ran.
I saw him run, unable to stop him. No pleading would work, no expression would work.

I want him to know how much it hurt, but he probably knows.
As he doesn’t know my hurt, I don’t know his.
As much as I want to know and want to take that hurt from him, I can’t.

I hate when he’s nice to me because it makes me want to be with him.

I never realized how emotional I would get leaving.
I thought that I would be okay.
But seeing him at the airport as he waited for us to arrive, so patiently.
I realized he’s not a 5-hour bus ride away.
He’s not a weekend away.
The last 3 weeks was the closest I have felt to him in so long.
It makes me want to move and live there.
Different cities, but it’s only a different city, not half way across the world.

I know he wants to be my dad.
And it hurts.


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