Him

You don’t know why exactly, but when he’s around you droop. It’s the thing that turns a good day to a bad one and he doesn’t even have to do anything. Just be there. You feel bad, because you’re supposed to love him. He’s family, but you don’t. You are embarrassed by him. Disgusted, frustrated and annoyed by him. Your favourite times are when he’s not there, which makes you feel guilty and then even worse.

Sometimes you wonder what life would be like if he wasn’t there any more, for whatever reason. You realise you still need him financially, but other than that… In a few years that won’t be the case. You’ll have a job and will stand on your own two feet. You’ll be free of him and his intrusions. He doesn’t understand privacy; that people want to watch the television or read without being interrupted. He doesn’t ask for help, he expects it, orders it.

He says he’s interested, but when he has the chance to show some support, he’s not there. Off to do other things. You’ve given up trying to please him, get along with him and even co-exist with him. The further apart you are, the happier you feel. When you are forced to be in close proximity, you feel your energy draining away. You wait for those same two questions that come everyday. You know he’ll ask the others first, then you last: in priority order. Sure enough, there’s the first one. Short answer. And the second one. Shorter again. Now he’ll move on. He has satisfied his conscience, he’s given you some attention. You wish he hadn’t. That he’d just left you alone. At least, now, you can go back to imagining he’s not there.

He looks at you disapprovingly for the tv shows you watch. Wonders why you hang out with those you do. Questions the point of the games you play with them. How many of them? Who? He wants more notice, for next time. But you know, it’s only so he can hang it over your head for longer in the lead up. To keep you on the straight and narrow. There’s the real problem. If he knew the real you, things would be even worse. You doubt that’s possible, but it’s true and deep down you know. You should feel grateful. You’re one of the lucky ones. But even you are ashamed by so many of the things you’ve done. Often you see yourself from the outside and you hate what you see. Not just physically, but the actual “person” that you are. He doesn’t know about all this, yet he still disapproves. You can understand why and hate it.

Most people don’t get the opportunities in their life that you’ve had and you’re still young. They’ll benefit you in the future. But you can’t see the future. It’s a haze if it exists at all. You’re stuck in the present, dragging yourself through until you can put your head on the pillow and try to get the tears to finally come out. But they won’t. You need them to too, but they don’t care. They’re stubborn, even more so than you. More so than the time you couldn’t bear the thought of a week away, at close quarters. You put your foot down and refused to go. He said “well then, find a place to stay.” You were happy to stay home. You could look after it and yourself, but he wouldn’t have it. Didn’t think you could.

Your accommodation is organised. Easily. He doesn’t like it. Tries to convince your accommodators to reconsider, but they’ve already agreed and they won’t go back on their word. You feel good about this. They seem to be on your side, against him. An ally. But they’re not there for the next month, when he takes out all his frustration on you. Brainstorms punishments and then wheels them out one by one, desperate for a reaction. You refuse to give him one, but he keeps pushing more and more for you to swallow. Eventually, you give in and react. You want to call him childish, stupid and more. But you don’t, you say you haven’t done anything wrong. He laughs. Says you have. He doesn’t need to say any more than this. You know the rest: you’re not good enough for him. A disappointment.

It’s like when he sits in the passenger seat when you’re driving. Nothing is ever good enough. He doesn’t take note of the improvement, of the effort of the fact you can stay at the speed limit, without going over, unlike him. He finds something, anything, to criticize and when it’s done, he wants gratitude. You wouldn’t be surprised if he asked for payment, you actually half expect it.

You know you shouldn’t, but the fact is you do. You resent your dad. Especially that he's the only male role model you've got. What kind of example is that to follow. What chance do you have? Even less than what he makes you think you deserve.