Or Should I Go

Chapter I - By Definition

I have a strange obsession with dictionaries. In a world full of confusion, dictionaries provide definition. A group of people have come together and collectively decided, yes, this is what this word means. For example, there are a handful of words that no matter where you look, they have the same meanings.

Scorn : open dislike and disrespect or mockery often mixed with indignation.

Anger : a strong feeling of displeasure and usually of antagonism.

Disdain : a feeling of contempt for someone or someone regarded as unworthy or inferior.

Rage : a violent and uncontrolled anger.

Contempt : the act of despising, the state of mind of one who despises.

However, there is a disconnect between the words on a page in a dictionary and the action of which they define. Even if bright, intelligent academics come to an agreement of meaning, there is always some interpretation. When you think about something long enough, the meaning evolves.

Scorn : my name is Charity, what does he call me? Charity Case.

Anger : a smile, there is a new feeling when that smile is filled with shit.

Disdain : I can never do it right, the food is cold, my drink is watered down, the towels were folded incorrectly.

Rage : the abuse, can't forget the physical abuse.

Contempt : the way he speaks to me, there is always venom and pure hatred embedded in every word.

So, I ask myself why? Why do the meanings of these words change when they are applied to me? The answer is rather simple, Simon Farrandelli. Your average Joe, a construction worker who maybe spends a little too much time at the bar and too little at home. An alcoholic? Most definitely. A child abuser? Behind closed doors, sure enough. Unfortunately for me, Simon is my father, or sperm donor in my head. We don't have the best relationship.

That wasn't always the case though, the shift in his behaviour only started around five years ago when my mom left. He used to be a completely different person, he laughed and loved to pack picnics for us to go spend time in the park.

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The sun shines down through the trees, a soft melody flows out of the guitar in my father's arms as he strums slowly. We all sit on the picnic blanket laid across the grass underneath our favourite oak tree. My mother stands and holds her hands out to me as a sign to take her hands and stand alongside her. My small and frail legs can barely keep up with her as we dance to dad's song. My father opens his mouth and he starts to sing,

"Something in the way she moves,

Attracts me like no other lover

Something in the way she moves me

I don't want to leave her now

You know I believe and how

Somewhere in her smile, she knows

That I don't need no other lover

Something in her style shows me

I don't want to leave her now

You know I believe and how"

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Like I said, words take on new meaning the more connections and time you give them. For example,

Contempt : the feeling a daughter has towards her mother when she leaves.

I remember the day she left as if it was a fever dream, instead of yelling or screaming the air was filled with silent pain. She broke him, completely. My dad loved my mother, he worshipped the ground she walked on. They were happy then she was gone. It was so quick and she left me behind. I haven't seen her since.