I was just little and I know you had to work, but that didn’t mean you had the right to leave me hanging. Like that time I got hit in the face with the soccer ball. I quit immediately because I didn’t believe you had my back and I wasn’t taught how to deal with pain.

You told me I wouldn’t amount to anything if I kept reading.  That’s how I was dealing with pain you bastard. You had no kind words for me , no”I love you” just get the job done! You made me drown a bag of kittens to toughen me up. Fuck you!

You left me here with no emotional tools to live my life. They tell me that I should love you, but I sure as fuck don’t like you. You never hit me except for the occasional wooden spoon and that was usually at mom’s behest. To be honest it would have been welcomed to some degree, other than to be thought of as a disappointment and disregarded.

I remember hugging you when I was forty. You were stiff as a board.  Maybe that is why I don’t have the emotional tools to love a woman.  Instead I masturbate my life away. You taught me how to work and constantly berate myself for not being perfect. Now I believe i will never be good enough to be loved, because you never could show that to me.

I am starting to see it here, but still have that fear that if they truly see me, you know like you could have and told me that my warts were okay instead of telling me that I should be ashamed of myself when i started dating a girl that had pursued me, because i didn’t have the confidence to do that myself. Even if she was 13 and I 17. She was interested in me, not like you! I am 63, a mess and I am the one who has to clean it up, because truthfully I have left my self hanging too. I wonder where I learnt that one?