Tears

Wednesday

The sting of pain comes to me, like every week I have to leave. I wish it would stop but even gone for 2 days, I'm sad. I hug my mother and rest my head on her shoulder. I could hug her all day. It's still morning, soon I have to leave. At 3, but now it's 11.
I still feel the pain, dreading for it to be 3 and for me to leave this safe haven. I distract myself by writing, playing, and reading but then I look at the time, 2:39. Great.
It's okay.- I tell myself. I am getting better. Each time I leave my mamma, I'm sad but I can't wait to come back. I'm telling myself, ALL IS WELL

I hug my mother goodbye and give her a kiss. As I am in her arms I smile, knowing everything will go great!

Right now I'm in my room at my dad's house. He has this class of physical trainer online, he's a physical trainer. I hear his voice in the background as I write and secretly am on my school computer. He doesn't allow it after 3 but I had a test to do for school. See what I mean, we have to secretly do school work. Like who does that? WE DO!

After his meet thing is over, my father says we HAVE to go to the park, saying it's tradition.

"It's not tradition!" Simon, my brother, whines.

"We went to the park last week on Wednesday and the week before that..." My father answers with his annoying voice and smiles his weird face. "We're going to the park,"
My brother turns around to look at me. You can see the annoyance and tiredness he feels, for just going to the park. "Go get your bikes." that gets my attention.

I love to bike!!! But, you see, the problem is, I have to wear a helmet, which is small on my head, and my bike is old, like really old, I got it when I was two and I'm fourteen. You're probably asking yourself, how is that even possible, well, when I was two, my grandma won an auction of a bike, but the bike was too big for a two year old, it was for like an eight year old, but now I'm fourteen, so like, GET ME A NEW ONE DAD! and sometimes you have to stop because the chain falls off.

"Can we not go on our bikes?" I ask, hope in my voice as I try to persuade him with my innocent smile. He gives me one look of fake worry and smiles, and I know that we have to bike.

We arrive at the park. The park is green and brown. There are 2 parks connected to each other by a little path of bushes and stones. One park is for the smaller kids and the other for the bigger kids. We go to the swings for the big kids' park. We talk about stuff and it's fun, but it's very tight on the legs if your wearing shorts.

"Want to play with us?" Simon asks.

"I can't, I want to stay close to the bikes, so nobody steals them," My father answers.

"Okay," My brother and I start to walk to the baby swings towards the other park. "Just another excuse," Simon whispers. I giggle.

After a while, meaning after playing, going on the swings, playing- running away, playing tag...

"Can we go now?" Simon asks. No MAN CAN DO!

We are now on the seesaw.
My brother keeps on asking me to ask our dad to leave.

"You have to take your time when asking that to him," I whisper back. After a while of whispering, my dad gives us the football to play with him. We play catch with him for awhile, but it ends quickly as he keeps giving glances to his phone too frequently.
Then I take the ball and I put it in the swing. The game is that one person is the parent, swinging the swing with the football inside, the football is the baby. And the other person tries to steal the baby, acting noncholant about stealing it. Meaning we act! If you're the thief you have to look normal and then steal the baby, football and if you are the parent, you decide what kind of parent you are and how you treat the child. After playing 2 rounds of that game, my brother wanted to leave! So I just grabbed my bike and started to bike towards our dad. I was looking around the park and you could see some of the bugs all together in a clump.

"The bugs! Don't they know they have to be six feet apart?" I joke. My father takes this as the opportunity to speak about ...

"Did you know that people are buried underground six feet?" My father says.

"No, we did not." My brother and I eye each other.

"It means, that if you believe that we have to be six feet apart, then you are obsessed with death." He states.

"O.k.a.y," I exaggerate the word. This is so not true!

I know I seem mean as I write about my dad and that he isn't that bad to the outside world and maybe all these thoughts I have about him is just me being crazy, but the world doesn't know him like I do.
Our dad tells us everything, everything he's feeling in the moment and everything he's been watching. But not the actual important things like if he's dating someone or if he's actually okay, he never tells us what he really does on his free time or how he's really feeling, but he tells us what he thinks about other people. He sees a girl with pink dyed hair, he's got a comment, we see the beautiful moon outside, he'll tell us something about how it's probably just a hologram.

The people around me never know that this is how he's like around us, so whenever I heard someone tell me, I'm so lucky, you're so lucky to have a dad that stuck around or I wish I had a dad like yours.
My heart sinks a little, because they don't know that I don't feel lucky and all I wish is that maybe he could've just left like any other dad.

So, sometimes, I think I might just be the crazy one.
And that's why I write a bit angry when describing his features, because I want the whole world to know how I really feel.