Whatever I did, I did to make him proud. Finally, when my God, when His image shattered before me. I couldn’t handle it.My father never loved me. He still does not.He can never love another person selflessly.He was just using those who look up to him as a tool to show his greatness to others, by projecting us as people who cannot handle life without his direction.
Years later, I tears well up when I think of my childhood. Half of my life, I spend trying to make someone proud by being everything I actually wasn’t till I saw how ‘proud’ he was. For the rest of my life, I struggle with my memories. When will I get over them.
When will I be finally free?
When will I really feel… feel something good, something beautiful, something that I can hold on to?