His Promise

He looked me in the eyes as he said “I’ll better myself for you.”. My father promised me he would get better. The promise seemed to hold strong for a short while, but it wasn’t enough to make anything he’s done better. My fathers promises start slipping and every word he seemed to mean slowly turned to deception. His blackened heart, I believe, will never become anything at all. It’s dullen state will remain dead and every little spark of hope, every single gleaming bit of dust floating through the air that could become so much more, never turned into something beautiful. I saw him less and less around the house. More and more work was put on top of my burdened stories. Then I didn’t see him at all for a week. I hated myself for admitting that I liked it better because everything was calm and peaceful again. As the new week started I was taken back when I saw my father again. His state of mind was obviously clouded by something and his words had a hard time coming together. His words spewed out like acid as he told me he had found a new home, a better home. I felt worthless and like I had done something wrong. It was all my fault and if I hadn’t been such a disgrace, if I had lived up to his expectations, if I could just be his image maybe he would have been okay with the life he was currently passing up. Then I felt ridiculous because I knew none of this was my fault. His expectations just rose each day, his ever-changing image wasn’t a child’s memory card matching game where you match two pictures together. No, it was all a stupid little lie. He was the disgrace to the family and we all knew this was on him. I had never felt such hatred towards someone before and I had no idea what was happening. My mind started to shut out the civilized me as I started screaming at him to leave the house he was currently invading. I spent that year showing him what I could have been doing with my life, showing him what a real mess up child looked like. To this day I still haven’t forgiven him, to this day I still haven’t stopped and calmed down. I push myself every morning to just let go of it. Each and every waking moment I thrive to just forgive him, but I know in the back of my mind I’ll hate for most of my life. I hear his false words echo in my head every time there is silence. I can’t stop thinking about his “promise” to this day. For some reason he felt he had the need to barge into the house he left and torment us with our “issues”. Each time it happened my mother would shut down and cry. Each and every single time I saw her cry, I would become just a furious as I had been that first day. I knew not how to express myself so my alternative was to curse him out. I could never sleep on those nights that he came for a visit. My sister decided to come home from Germany for a while because she missed home. No one had told her that the father who was around for her entire life, had changed into a worthless, pathetic cowardly excuse of a man. When she arrived home she went into shock. She acted like he was just too busy to come home from work. She kept the act up for three days and on that fourth day, she spent her hours crying to herself. My sister, my mother, myself, we all haven’t forgiven him yet. I know I while be the last to forgive him, but I yearn to be the better man in this horrifically simple situation. A few weeks later my mother told me she couldn’t afford this house that I had grew up in. This was my Home, the one place I could feel safe. That area was my wolf’s den and I wasn’t afraid of anything that entered the vicinity of this area. I wasn’t afraid of anything in my life. I wasn’t scared of anyone or anything, but that was before I had been told my safety net had been taken away. I swore on my own grave that I wouldn’t rest until I made my father regret his single decision. This year he had the audacity to invite me to see this new home of his. Nonetheless, I took him up on this offer. He lives in the basement of a house that is  ten times smaller than my current townhouse. He gave up everything for a hole in the wall. He gave up his wife, his daughter, his son, he gave up things he didn’t even own such as my safehaven, all for a basement. All the pain I had felt, all the time wasted on this one simple event. Even now I am unforgiving towards him. Half of me is him and I wish I could be different, but this situation that no one should ever have to go through, could all have been avoided if he had just told us he was “unhappy”. It would have made him look better at least. The poor man who I called my father, he betrayed the rest of my family and now I have to be all high and mighty. I never asked for this, I was still growing up, young and having fun. Just like that though, all my fun was gone for the longest time. As a result, I lack motivation to prove myself to anyone, I lack a father figure, and I now lack a father.

Comments:
There are no messages yet
BringMeMore115
School Papers
Other
writing BringMeMore115
Fuck work, I have a job.
Bookmark and Share

You must log in to rate.
This has not been rated.

Synopsis
This took me a while to write because I had to go and re-live these silly memories. Hope it makes any fathers who read this to think twice about the impact they have on their own flesh and blood. Half of you is them.
© 2014 WritingRoom.com, LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WRITING | POETRY WRITING | CREATIVE WRITING | WRITE A BOOK | WRITING CONTESTS | WRITING TIPS