After months of feeling a strong, unidentified emotion, I finally figured it out. I wasn’t blaming myself for his trouble at home, I was jealous that his family actually cared. His dad is strict, but it’s because he wants the best for his child. My father, who voiced he wanted nothing to do with me long ago, couldn’t care less about me. I'm the first born, and the one he decided to disown. I would give anything to have a father who cares about my well being, a father that checks in on me every once in a while. I would kill to have the family I have always dreamed of. Nobody is perfect, and this provokes the fact that no family is perfect, either. I don't want perfect. I want love, support, and communication. I don’t need the postcard family, I just want the family that is perfect for me in its own imperfect way.
top of page
bottom of page