Daddy Issues by Gracie Lee (16, California)

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