Admissions [1]

It feels so foreign to me but I can remember that looked up to you so much at one point. In my head you were something of a rockstar. You seemed to know everyone and everyone seemed to know you. Your workplace would buzz with life, and from where I stood, it all seemed to revolve around you. Almost like that place was a personality cult. Even the way people mentioned your name seemed to carry so much weight and admiration. At least that’s how “[Redacted]” would ring in my head. I remember it used to make me feel important too. Because I was your son. Thats how your clients would refer to my person between one another. “[Redacted]’s son”.

At one point you had visited my primary school and gave my class a lecture on [Redacted]. For the next few months my friends and teachers would keep mentioning how cool and strong you are. To me you seemed like the strongest, smartest, most charismatic person in the world. I forgot that this was what I used to think at all. I try to remember of the time you would spend with me, but other than occasionally playing soccer I can’t remember much. Most of what I did with you was tag along and that was alright with me. I used to think in some way or another, who you were would rub off on me. I thought that maybe as I got older I would somehow start to understand how I could become just like you.

I struggle to remember if there was a specific point where how you treated me changed. Like if you had suddenly lost a screw or something and your whole personality shifted. I doubt that’s the case. I can recognize, that at one point your life started getting more stressful and maybe that had some effect, but I believe the shift was likely a perceptual one. Maybe I just didn’t have the perception to see things when I was younger. It could also be the case that you were this person all along, but you just didn’t get pushed hard enough for everything to spill out.

There are so many instances I can think back to. Things you said and did that I cannot justify, ever. Things you never took accountability for. I don’t know if you are capable of doing so. I never once heard you apologize for anything. If you ever do, I’m sure I’ll check my watch or something to make sure I’m not dreaming. You have a justification for everything at the ready. And they are stupid and infantile justifications. I know that because you keep repeating them to mother after something goes down. I think you are inconsiderate, impulsive, unpredictable, and 100% ego driven. Sometimes I think you are dangerous. Like, I know that that much muscle on a person like you is irresponsible.

I hate every part of this. I don’t want to feel this way about you, nor anyone. I did not ask for any of this. I hate it so much. What pisses me off the most is that I don’t know if I can ever tell you anything. I tell myself that if you cared about any of this, if you had any reticence for any part of it, there would have been indications, even slight ones. I cannot say that I have noticed any. Also, I can never trust you to handle it in a way that won’t make it much worse. I already know you would write me off as a crazy person. I’ve seen you do it to others before. I’ve seen you do it to my siblings.

It pisses me off because the burden is all mine. I cannot tell you shit because there is no utility in doing so, other than maybe getting it off my chest. I don’t know that driving another wedge between us in this family is worth that. Keeping this from you is making me fucking rot though. It makes me think less of myself. I doubt myself, and I often feel like a deluded crazy person. I don’t know what to believe, because I keep telling myself lies to keep this bearable.

A lot of the time I stop my self. I tell myself that I somehow made this all up as a justification for being a bad person just like every other overtherapized zoomer. Because you were the most immediate scapegoat. So where others probably get a good feeling when they see their father, I get this confused anger-guilt cocktail every time I come across you.

I just want to remove this all. Make it so that it never was a thing. I just want to drop you, and drop this forever. I don’t want to occupy myself with this anymore.

I don’t want to go into specifics what happened and when. There’s no purpose. If you believed you did anything wrong, you’d show it by bothering. It’s not my place to correct you. All I can say is that I HATE how you handle shit, and I don’t want to be around it. I know you didn’t have it easy, but that’s not an excuse I grant to anyone. Not even myself. You are more than [Redacted] old, I believe you’ve had enough time to figure it out.

Only silver lining is that [Redacted] don’t have just you to look to.