My lyfe

What are we

What are we?
Father and daughter
I've never had that relationship before
At least, not with you
What are you supposed to be to me?
My dependent
My protecter
One of the only people I'd depend on
What you really are to me:
The embodiment of my disappointment
The reason for my mistrust in promises
Empty truths and truthful lies
Sweet words spoken that leaves a nasty aftertaste
My pent up anger
The tears that occasionally fall that I pretend I no longer possess for you

You reject me without batting an eyelash and then smile in my face knowing that as soon as I put my back to you you'll just stab me and twist the knife around before yanking it out with that same smile still plastered there

When you looked at me you didn't see your child. You saw an obligation. You saw a task that you didn't want to deal with.

You say you love me and kiss my forehead but I've never felt more hatred for the word. It makes me feel like if my own "father" can't give me love than there's no way I can find love for myself. Not the kind I want or deserve.

When you would give me money it was like you where paying me off. The money burned my hands and made my eyes water with such intensity that I'd spend it as soon as I got it because it was a constant reminder that I'd never be put before it. To you I'm worth less.

And now I feel half full and half empty. I don't feel anything but anger and hate towards you. I shun you with my soul and curse you with my heart. I hate myself because I still want to see you but not because I miss you. Oh no. I want to see you so I can become a person that I never wanted to be, some little black girl with daddy issues. I want to scream and yell and tell you how much of a failure you are as a father. That wouldn't be fair though. I wasn't there with you to see how you raised my other siblings that you helped bring into the world. They call you "dad" or "daddy" just like I did. They've done family activities with you that I've done with my mother and I love her with every atom of my being.

So I can only imagine how it feels to feel that way toward that man. I won't bash him out of spite or take my anger out my sibling for something that they have no control over. No, if I see him again, I may not know exactly what I'll do. What I do know is that when I'm finished speaking I'll feel some weight lifting of my chest. That's all I can do to do right by myself.

~Fin~