Daddy Issues

No one's seen you today. I wonder if you're dead. Sometimes I find myself wishing that you were. Then when people ask me about my father I can say "He died" and they can say "Oh, I'm sorry" and we can move on. I wouldn't have to explain, "Well, we're not very close. He's a manipulative abusive deadbeat alcoholic and occasional crack user".

 I wouldn't have to worry about my little sister. I remember finding out that you'd smoked crack in our apartment while she and I were asleep in the other room. I remember coming back a few days later to find you passed out on the floor, and her, naked and crying, begging you to get up. I think about the time you abandoned her for several days. When she was all of three years old. I'm sure you were just trying to teach her some valuable survival skills. Like not to trust or rely on you.

 I worry about my brothers, and your influence on and over them. I wonder what we'd be like if we had had a strong father figure. But we got you, and your enlightened teachings of drink, fight, yell, and be an everlasting victim.

Sometimes I wish that you were dead. Most of the time though, I just wish that you'd get better.