16 Years of Small Talk

I wonder if we’ll ever pass this stage

Perhaps it’s not a phase anymore

16 years is a long time to make it right

But a lifetime’s worth of grief won’t convince you to change

 

I’ve gotten used to the mindless chatter, I suppose

You don’t know I hate small talk but it’s alright

I can adjust to this, for at least a little while longer

Who cares about emotionally available fathers, anyway?

 

You say all the words you think I wish to hear

But it goes in one ear and right out the other

How can you say I’m smart and beautiful?

When you’re so tragically inhumane and evil?

 

I try to not bother with thoughts of you

But sometimes, I feel my organs lurching

At dusk when everything feels so much more heavy

Do you ever lose sleep over me, too?

 

You don’t deserve anything that comes from me

Not my grief, not any pity, and definitely not a shred of sympathy

I might be a pathological people-pleaser, but I still have self-respect

And you should be grateful I have chosen to be merciful thus far

 

I seethe with years worth of unspoken confessions and disclosures

How I hate you, how I hate myself, how I hate the relation between us two

I refuse to give your reckless mistakes any credit for building my character

But I can’t deny how you’ve been a part of the equation to my so-called “maturity”

 

I know forgiving and forgetting are good sentiments

But when I remind myself of what you did to my mother

I can’t help but grit my teeth and draw my weapons

There’s no point playing nice in a corrupt, vicious game

 

Instead of growing up recklessly joyful and stained with memories

My youth was spent listening to the villain you were to my mother

When I hear about all your manipulations, web of lies and covert narcissism

I refuse to accept that I share blood with such a horrendous creature

 

But I suppose It must be a disease I have inherited from you and mom

Your bottomless glass always craving more and mom’s undying need to please

When your own family wasn’t enough, you seeked refuge from your beastiality in a woman’s arms

And when I’m not enough for myself, I immediately go to press the self-destruct button

 

My delusions must amuse you, if only you knew about them

Did you know I used to yearn for long talks, inside jokes, and paternal affection?

Perhaps packing our bags and going on a road trip would have been nice too,

Now I just hope you finally get what you fucking deserve in this lifetime

 

You could’ve gotten the ‘Father of The Century’ award

With how violently you drowned your daughter’s hopes

Your own kin, yet you still couldn’t find it in your heart to care

You don’t know the things I’d do to rid myself of your filthy 50%

 

All those nights, cradling and rocking my weeping mother to sleep

Hushing all the grief she spent mourning over the man that failed her

Where were you? Where did you hide? Where did you disappear to?

Were you out gambling with your family’s life? Or were you just a coward?

 

Sometimes I can’t help but let loose a bitter chuckle at all of it

If it could afford my mother a good life, I wish I was never born

I wish none of my siblings were born and I wish you never existed

Just to see a life play out where my mother is happy, free and left unhurt

 

But once your infidelity to her was revealed to the public eye, were you terrified?

Did you, for once in your disgusting life, consider the prospect of fleeing?

There is no rhyme or reason as to why you chose to leave a gaping hole in our life

Except for the fact that you were malicious, bloodthirsty and unloved by revolting parents

 

It’s people like you who start the cycle of abuse

And if I was even a little kinder and more timid

I wouldn’t have so much space for all this rage and resentment

You should be honoured I still have it reserved for you

 

I wish to say things, your Honour

Homicidal, spiteful and heartless things

But I’m afraid I’ll have to save my words for later

For when my father is on his deathbed and gasping for his last breath

 

To be fair, I try to warm my cold-bloodedness

I try to do CPR on my frigid heart

And I try to convince myself it isn’t right

To be so ruthless in the face of my injustice

 

But Lord forgive me for when my hurt consumes me

With the sorrow-stricken faces of my family guiding me

I hope to find the impartiality I know my mother deserves

And I pray I can stop waiting for my father’s downfall in search of it