Dear, Sperms.

I did a lot of growing up at a very young age. I blame/ thank a lot of it on not having a set of close friends who i would want to follow like a sheep to continue feeling accepted by, not having a large or close family to disappoint if i fucked up once in a while, and not having a father from the start which meant that i never had to deal with typical ‘dad’ issues that seem to upset so many children. 


Dad issues seem to stem from not feeling loved by half of your blood. Dads tend to run away, to whatever capacity, when times get to tough, as a kid grows up and a wife doesnt feel like she can do it on her own. I can see how a family can fall to shreads from this collapse. Of course a child would feel that by a dad leaving, in someway they weren’t good enough to make him want to stay. 

  1. Baby feels disclosure and permanent insecurity.
  2. Wifey feels resentment and hatred towards men, along side hopelessness for a child. 
  3. A family goes to shit, and a father roams free.
I know there are numerous variations to ‘dad issues’ and this doesn’t even touch on those, but this seems to be the dad issue dust pile that i get swept into whenever people ask me about my father
As i grow up, i realize the importance of wording and how different saying something like ‘i never KNEW him’ and saying ‘i never MET him’ really are. You can’t really hold a ill feeling for someone you’ve never met. and if you do….then fuck you. you’re an asshole.
How can you feel an absences for someone that was never there?

As we live, there are tribes of human beings living in tee-pees and eating things that derive from dirt. These people grew up with that being their way of life, and so they adjust because they don’t know of an alternative way of living. 
Just because my friends had fathers, doesn’t mean i was bound to be some sad pathetic woman, deprived from a ‘male figure’. 
My mother had some of the most interesting boyfriends, i have ever met. They took me under their unbiased wing and showed me the importance of taking care of yourself first. 

I was the child of the fathers that ran away from their old families. I didn’t ask for love or a father figure from them, because we all knew that they weren’t that. and that its too late in MY life to try to become just that out of left field. 
No ‘father figure’ in my life considered them self that, to me. I was always just ‘clo’ ‘kit’ ‘cloves’ ‘fin’ ‘the kid’ whatever. and they were always just my friends. And it made life simple.

I let them teach me a very sensible and maybe slightly cold hearted way of growing up.  I was my mothers daughter, so i understood her as much as i could. But i also opened my mind up to these mens reasoning for their seemingly pig headed moves. And so I never had hard feelings when my mother became to much for them to handle. Or when the errors of their past caught up to them, and took them away abruptly. 

They taught me things that a real parent would have to cushion, for love. Because parents are so fucked.
They seem to think that blocking their childrens precious mind from the way that the world really works, until they blindly walk into life filling in the gaps with little more than chewing gum and forced tears, or while crutching onto some other poor soul who is trying to figure out life too, is the way for a parent to make a child turn to them for advice and comfort forever. Theoretically, resulting in eternal love for the birth giver. Which is so.fucked.up. 

You don’t have a kid cause no one loves you, you twat.

I feel like not having a father made me grow up and except people for who ever they are. Why would these dudes just show me how to NOT go about things, if they hadn’t lived it and learned from it? 
Later in life, when I’ve made mistakes and compared it to the mistakes of the adults around me, who went through it in a much larger scale, I could understand it from every angle and why the bizarre foreshadowing of words that he told me in his thick Sicilian accent and cigar-stenched breath, held true in retrospect, enabling me to stop it from becoming a prospective issue…ever.

I was born to one parent, and if i had a problem, i never found a reason to blame someone that didn’t exist. Nor did i blame the adults who showed me how to, not NOT fuck up, but to fuck up in order to learn from my mistakes and not repeat them. A mistake that i see in a lot of drug addicts, theives, and bad intimate relationships. 

So in the end, I would like to thank my father for absolutely nothing. With you, Dad, I may be some love-weakened co-dependent piece of shit vagina pile junkie with ‘daddy issues’.
Without you, I was able to learn different styles of love and respect from all over, and have always been able to love myself in order to love another person. And to love people for the mother fuckers they are.

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One Response to “Dear, Sperms.”

  1. Pacing the Panic Room Says:

    You’re the best Dad I’ve ever had buddy.

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