Fatherless Fag

Yes, that’s what I am. Well sort of.

You see, my sperm donor never really physically left me. But he was absent emotionally.

Most times, he came home from work, brought food into his room and stayed there until the next day. He cared more about his computer, guns, and fishing than he did about his own family. 

Why was my mother the only one raising us when she had a full grown, Buick-sized motherfucker lying around in bed making less money than she was?

Why was she a single mother while still living with her husband?

Why?

He would only speak when spoken to, and even then that wasn’t much. When he did want to have a conversation, it was about something that was out of place or wasn’t right or “If I was God I would have struck [you kids] down already”

And I was supposed to call this low life “dad?”

I’m not going to say I didn’t learn anything from him, and after all he did feed me. But even zookeepers feed their animals.

What was I supposed to feel after he verbally came at my mother like that? Coupled with his body language…I thought he was going to hit her. I thought he was going to do much worse than hit her. They’d already been having problems. So what else was I supposed to do? I had to protect the most beautiful woman in the world. I had to protect the queen.

I popped off.

And when I say popped off. I mean I popped the entire fuck off. I scared myself. It’s like I was possessed.

Anger was causing me to shake and my voice became like thunder and I’m not exaggerating. In that moment, I became a new person…all of the feelings of abandonment, anger, and pain came out in a burst of 5 minutes of non-stop yelling at the top of my lungs. They’d never seen me like that…I’d never seen me like that.

Well, needless to say, my father wasn’t going to hit my mother. He knew better, I guess. But he had that monster-like look in his eyes and I thought he was up to no good.

I thought he was going to hurt her. I mean there was only so much pain he could cause her emotionally, I thought he was going to resort to turning it into something physical.

But he didn’t and now I’m here wondering why the fuck he’s calling me.

You divorced my mom. You divorced all of us emotionally decades before that.

So why call now?

What the fuck do you want from me? If it ain’t about money, keep your damn phone call. We could have spoken for all of the 18 fucking years that I was in that fucking hell-hole of a house. Why do you want to talk now?

How dare you treat all of us like shit and expect me to answer a text, muchless, visit your bobble headed, two chin having, ho ho ho built, bitch ass?

My mother raised me. And I know the only reason you’re taking out these college loans is so that you can maintain your “godly” appearance to other people and tell them that you still take care of your kids.

It’s so hard to explain to other people how much of a piece of shit you are because you did not physically abuse me and your money kept me fed and clothed.

But parenting is about more than that and people can’t see the emotionless narcissist that you are.

They just can’t see it and I’m not about to make myself feel like I’m an idiot because they can’t see what I can feel and have felt. 

My mom made herself feel stupid and stifled herself and her emotions and essentially bowed to you before she took a stand and you guys separated. It obviously wasn’t a healthy way for her to live and I'm not about fall into doing what she did.

It’s hard for me to understand how you could claim to have loved my mother but yet you were the reason for most of her tears.

It’s hard for me to understand how you could have three children under the same roof and leave them for your hurting wife to emotionally raise all by herself. She had to be there emotionally for us because if she wasn’t, then we wouldn’t have felt love from any parent. She had to pretend like she wasn’t in pain to make sure that we were raised correctly.

Now I want to know: who’s the true faggot? Who’s the true bitch? Why did my mother have to step up and be MORE than the man in the relationship? She was the strongest one in that house.

I’m glad I don’t have to see your moon pie-built face anymore. 

Imagine, you had three kids and lived with them and not one of them wanted to live with your ass after the divorce. Not one. They all flocked to their mother.

So don’t fucking call me, bitch.

Don’t fucking text me, bitch.

Don’t fucking contact me, bitch.

Don’t expect me to feel sympathy, bitch.

Don’t expect me give two shits, bitch

The time to build a relationship has passed and your unchanging ass apparently didn’t want to do it anyway. You had 18 years motherfucker, and you abused it.

I have the rest of my future ahead of me and you are slowly but surely becoming a part of my past.