There were these kids…they liked to push me over, then leave me alone until I was just on my feet again and getting up, where they would push me to the floor again.
Every time I was getting up I thought that they wouldn’t do it again, that it’d be the last time. But every time, they did it again. It was the worst form of taunting I’ve ever faced. The giving one hope then pushing to the floor (literally, in this case) act. Nothing is worse than giving a person hope then, just as that hope is settling in, destroying one’s life again.
I just never knew my own father would do that to me now…
and yet without conscious thought….
simply because, he doesn’t know me.
His own son.
He may think he does, but he has no idea who I am anymore. And he doesn’t even try to know. All he sees is a well-built boy who now needs to become an adult, and therefore he will start treating him like an adult without any sort of preparation or warning that a father may have given his son when he was growing up.Too busy with his own life and problems, too busy with his own things, that he never knew the son who was constantly changing, right under his nose. The one who should have been there when that son needed someone to talk to, and yet found no-one, wherever he turned.
Now, you have me. A son whom you do not know.
And the worst part is, you think you know.
You THINK you know…
Please, just be the guy that you’ve been in my mind for all this time.
Once father and now, purely, my benefactor.