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a space for youth writing on mental health & identity
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a space for youth writing on mental health & identity
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![]() I do not need a muse To write about my dad Because hurt is enough Less is more But not with parents Distance makes the heart grow fonder But not mine (Mine grew bitter) Not quite fatherless
My parents not divorced Still raised by my mother And still separate Four times a year, my house is full My mom, my two brothers, myself And a stranger I call dad Some days I don’t miss him at all I’m just angry. And when he comes home I wonder if he could even call it that But no I don’t hate him I’m just scared That I don’t know him And he doesn’t know me To him, I’m still ten To me, he still doesn’t understand that I’m grown Not an adult yet But I’m not a child anymore Some days I don’t miss him at all. Some days he never even crosses my mind. I hate that about myself. And yet, when my friends complain about their own dad I hate them too “I’ve got daddy issues.” I joke It’s not the cute kind that The Neighbourhood sings about though I hurt people that I like And I like boys that hurt me too (I think I want someone who will fight to have me) He missed my game. He’s missed every game. He’s missed my concerts, ceremonies, middle school graduation (He’s going to miss my high school one, too) He’s missed me And I’m bitter And I’m angry It’s not fair He’s trying his best But how good is your best when it's an ocean away I’m trying my best But how can you be a good daughter to a father who isn’t around I’m lonely He’s lonely I think I hate him But then I think about the nights he spends alone He eats alone After work he goes home to his little apartment where he lives, alone Incheon Airport greets him when he goes back And he leaves the terminal alone There’s nobody to pick him up on this side of the world I know he cries more these days I do too He doesn’t sleep And when the sun shines on his end, and it grows dark on mine I don’t either And I shake some days and my heart pounds and my head hurts and I can't breathe because I really am his daughter Even if I don’t feel like it So, “What’s it like to live without your dad?” “I’m used to it.” I’m used to him not being here. I still miss him I wish I missed him less Comments are closed.
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May 2023
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