I loved my father. But I keep acting like he never existed.
When people say they're sorry and act like their words will bring him back, I just say I'm fine because of how long ago it was. The truth is I'm not "fine" I just know how to act like I am.
I'm always told I look and act just like him. Those words are like stabs to the gut...
To be honest I never really knew much about him. I was so little when he died that all I know about him is the few memories I have of him and a handful of stories from his childhood. But it was always clear how much he loved my sister and I.
Sometimes it feels like he's in my room with me. It's as if he's standing there next to me, seeing how I turned out. I can even hear his voice in my head, but I know he's not there.
Sometimes I wonder what he would have thought of me.
What would he have thought about my interests?
What would he have done to help my poor mental health?
Would he have let me live with him instead of mom?
Would he have been accepting of me being lesbian?
He was my dad, and no matter how much I try not to care or how hard I try to forget, I'll always miss him.
YOU ARE READING
Poems From the Mind of an Extremely Anxious Person
PoetryThese are poems I've written in the past year about my emotions and how I feel in general. This was just a way for me to vent and feel better so don't expect anything amazing. These are just copied from my notebook so there might be a few mistakes. ...
