Needing that Father

I hate staring at it.
The skin tone, the nose, the lips, the eyes.
All of those achievable because of him.
So I roll my eyes when I look at the mirror.

I hate feeling it.
The belts, the words, the threats, the fear.
All of those memories engraved in my mind.
So I hide my feelings when I talk to him.

Never dependable.
Told that the phone goes both ways when I was 8.

Never kind.
Told that I spelt his name wrong when I was 4.

I would watch girls with their dads.
I wished that it would happen.
When it happened, he shouted.
He smoked in the car, and my dress smelled like weed.

I would see people with Nintendos.
I wished I could get one.
When it happened, he compared.
He gave me a Nintendo instead of a father figure and I was left crying.

He doesn’t know anything about me.
I no longer want to be an engineer or an astronaut.
My dreams are now about writing

He doesn’t know what I look like now.
I no longer have brown hair that reaches my back.
My dream was him coming to my graduation.

Looking back, I can envision the tears that escape Gabriel’s eyes as she slept alone in her father’s house.

Looking back, I can envision the ache in Gabriel’s stomach when her father never attended any of her school events.

He created fake memories.
He created fake moments.
He created fake stories.

He abandoned her.
He abused her.
He neglected her.

She was only a child.
She was only 4.
Only 4 when her dad allowed her to be bullied.

She was only a child.
She was only 9.
Only 9 when she found out she had a brother, and her dad was too broke to buy crayons for school.

I read the message that said he wish he never made her. I felt bad for the little girl that favored him.

I read the message that cursed her out when she was only 6. I felt bad for the little girl that thought she was his biggest disappointment.

When he finally talked to her after years, he screams.
Curses and derogations  leave his mouth.
She’s stunned.

When he finally sees a corner of her face on the phone after years, he rolls his own eyes.
He brings up fake moments that never happened and blames her for him not talking to her.
She’s disappointed.

Why is this normal to her?
Why isn’t she surprised by his actions?
Why is she gripping her pillow after she decides that she needs to hang up?
Why does she look like him?

Why is he texting her afterwards?
Why is she running to her mother in tears?
Why does she need to finally cleanse and block him?
Why does the memories of him putting women above her roam her mind?


This man who doesn’t even know his daughter has such an impact on her. She blames herself.

This man who hasn’t spoken to his daughter in 3 years has moved her into a depression. She seeks love from others.