I don't know who my father is, why, because my mother is a whore. Two possibilities, no answers and little hope are the things that I think of every fathers day as I wish my grandfather a good day. I've asked plenty of times and I get the same response;
"It doesn't matter.You don't need to know." She says.
I always ask myself; "Why do I even want to know?"
I don't know, I've never known, and I don't like not knowing things. I don't like being someone viewed as broken. Anything that could make someone think that irritates me. Being without a father has always irritated me.
"Why didn't she tell them?"; That's the thing that kills me the most. I just want the closure, I just want to know that they aren't here because they don't want to be. I'll never receive that justification. I'll never know who, I'll never understand. But, the world isn't something we can fully understand. So, why is my ambition to understand something as complex as human perception? Something as complex as human intention... Why try to understand at all? No one else seems to try.
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