The hardest part about burning brains is the fire that never seems to go out; our emotions.
Today I saw something that made me cry and it wasn't about cute kittens or something getting killed, it just a Dad who loved his kid a whole lot. The movie "The Quiet Place" is one of those movies that really relies a lot on the ideas that families are good things even when they're flawed, mine wasn't, but none the less it is so empowering to see someone who loves someone else just because of what they mean to them. Kids are gifts and glorious and mean so much to parents and I know I meant so much to my Mom. To my dad though I never really felt I was anything more than an extension of some sort of a legacy he wanted to instill in us. Surely, as intelligent as he is, he knows this is all futile and means nothing? Is that why he is so abusive? Or is he really just that naive as to think he can help us through his emotional abuse.
It's such a hard needle to thread, parenthood, but a little goodwill goes a long way. I just never felt that anything my Dad did, no matter how selfless he pretended to be, was anything more than a means to an end. Have more kids to have more people to do things. Have more kids to have more chances for grandchildren. Have more money to impress said kids and grandkids. Have more property to show you were better than all your bullies. Have my grandma's property to show that you are better than your brothers and sisters. Have stuff to feel better. No wonder he isn't happy.
He made us unhappy.
