An absent father

Our first memory together when I was a little girl was…

Oh wait I don’t remember because you were never fucking home.

You never wanted to be home.

All I remember is always dropping you off at the airport because you had to work.

And… being heartbroken and crying because I yet again had to see you leave us.

But… Yet again you never wanted to be home with your wife and four daughters.

Why would you?

At that point I never had a dad.

It was pretend.

All of it.

I had a fake ass father.

It was an act.

All the love you faked to give us so we could leave you alone.

The sad part is all we longed for was your love, affection, and attention.

But… At the end of the day all we got in return was demands.