A man with a charming, crooked smile, and a pointed nose. Sparkly green eyes, and a large belly. Short, fuzzy hair, and a simple pair of cargo shorts. Large hands covered in scabs and paint. A father.
A man, I long to love. To love without regret for all of the terrible things he's done. It's like a natural instinct, both of these feelings. Loving. Hating.
Which do I feel? Which is okay for me to feel? My siblings all shut you out, turning to a new future where you don't control them. But somewhere deep down, I know you still love us. I know you're not trying to hurt us. I know you're hurt, too.
But every time I look into your eyes, Father, every time your long arms wrap around me, a lump forms in my throat. I don't know if what I'm doing is right or wrong anymore. I don't know how I should react anymore. Would my siblings still love me if if I kept you in my life, even if the string that held us together were thin?
Would I ever forgive myself for leaving you? Would you ever forgive me? I want us to be one, big, happy family, but as I watch the days slowly pass, I can't help but realize that this childish dream may never come true. With a hypocritical, loud man in a house full of people who need to be heard, I just don't think it will work.
We don't connect like a family should. He can't listen. You doesn't know how. Yet I still convince myself that maybe, just maybe, you can change yourself for all of us. Not just us, but you. Because if you never change, if you don't try than we may never try back. You might be alone. And I don't want that for you, because at the end of the day, through all of my unnerving thoughts, I still love you. I still care about you and how you feel. Because you're my father.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡt6g0t4fC2H
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