My father - head of household? My ass!
51 years old, desperate for any "real" human connection while he spends his days coping with superficialities by working 24/7 and refusing to remember who he really is.
My stepmother - this is more like it. Head of household being the one who loves less. The one in control.
Since most of the brains left in her skull are mainly focused on ridiculing "non-conformists" for being what she wishes she was deep down, she loses every fight with herself by denying death and her fear of age and having no purpose.
My mother leaves. My real mother.
He loved her. She was free, thinker and spirit.
He was a family man, troubled, by a false sense of manhood.
He meets a woman.
Not free, thinker or spirit.
Inferior to his intellectualism.
There would be no conversations wasted on anything, questioning the meaning of life.
Lies became first priority.
She had 3 children.
He had 2.
The differences unexplainable.
Complications, inability to give in, me and my brother found ourselves outcast.
Cast out from dinner, TV, candy privileges. We were not good enough.
Cast out was also my fathers soul.
Somewhere hidden behind dreams and deep subconscious.
"Lose weight", she told him, or she wouldn't marry him.
Somehow his complete lack of self regard forced him to do as she pleased without questioning his own integrity and self respect.
Who is left of the father I used to have?
Just the little boy in the basement. Being locked up for being "lazy".
Hiding behind others, and their problems, he has forgotten his name.
As the house is filled with plastic people, H&M fashion addicted Ikea Monkeys with no brain, he refuses to remember who his family is.
So desperate for something even he can't explain.
And I am scared, that when he gets old he will be alone. Ignored and used.
He won't live again.
I miss my father. The man I used to know. I miss his insanity and him, being the wreck that he really is. I miss his good heart.
I can't find him. I hope he will remember us some day.