quiet confession

     

here i sit

face to face with my therapist

once again telling her things didn’t work out the way I thought.

though when I sit here this time around

i remain unbothered

until she asks about my dad.

I have not worked through that.

I haven’t accepted the lack of him

just cant say I’ve ignored it.

I get drunk and bring him up.

I fall for men with the same habits.

I look for him everywhere

except the source.

do i want love?

or am I trying to prove im lovable?

my mom tells me I am my best without someone.

but I find I fall for the avoidants.

I fall for the push and pull

something I need to prove myself to.

and I know that.

I don’t talk fully about my dad.

or the situation we ended on.

I can write and write

but its up to you to read.

I wont tell you

or beg you to listen.

it feels like asking someone to care.

but therapy knows it all.

so she doesn’t need to ask

every action or choice I make

leads back to him

he stains everything like blood on a hardwood floor.

spreading into places i wouldn’t expect

or want.

I give chances I shouldn’t give,

I think loving them more, will change how they feel

I crave attention I can’t get

and hold on tightly to things telling me to let go

which i had to learn somewhere.

and I don’t feel its wrong

its all I know.

and part of me doesn’t want to change to

someone could tell me word for word,

how much they love me,

how badly they want me,

how long they’ll wait.

yet i’ll choose what i’m used to

what I know best.

why would my body rather cry,

beg,

scream,

for someone who clearly does not want me,

who wont ever accept the love I have to give.

when there’s someone else waiting for it.

or better yet,

 to have nothing at all.

I know what I should want.

what I should look for in someone.

yet have turned it down more times than I can name.

and maybe this sort of longing will last forever.

I crave affection, as I run from it.

but if you run first, ill run after.

more than id care to admit

i am my fathers daughter.

i am stubborn.

i will hold on to this grudge like I hold a hand.

i may think of you sweetly from time to time

but will cut off my arm before I reach for you again.

I was brought into a world

and immediately taught to beg a man to love me.

maybe someday a man will yell

and I wont feel 7 years old again.

maybe ill leave when I feel unappreciated 

maybe ill unlearn these behaviors.

maybe ill decide this isn’t who I want to be anymore.

maybe ill believe in permanence.

maybe love isn’t to suffer.

maybe ill stop trying to replicate a love I never received.

one that was supposed to come easily.

so for now, I may choose to ignore it a little longer.

as its something I can’t fix overnight.

i’ll lay in the wrong arms

and continue to write love letters ill never send.

i’ll turn down the right people.

and be certain about the wrong ones.

i’ll hold on a little tighter to the things i shouldn’t.

 until I figure this out.

I will remain a child in a house I didn’t belong in.

asking someone to love me

who was supposed to the minute he held me.

how weird it is to grieve someone who’s still alive.

I miss my dad.

seems one of us forgot.

-o