Sometimes I really wish my father could love me as the way I could accept. When I was in school late at night, he picked me up and went home without talking a word in the car. No, he wasn't angry. That's usually what he was. I guess that was the way he loved me, a very indifferent and preserved way.
We got some confrontations in the past, but very few. Mostly we were in a situation that we knew each other existed, but no communication. This made us stay in our own safe zone. I don't know why we didn't get along, maybe we just loved each other too much, and afraid of getting hurt if we started to develop intimacy between us.
When I was getting older and older, I encountered some problem with men. Every fight, every argument happened, there was always a moment occurred to me that if my father and I could be more intimate, could those problems and misunderstandings disappear? If my father and I hugged more, could I see through men more clearly or build a relationship more rationally?
Father, I always misjudged a man badly. I always thought my man was happy with me. Father, I wish I could blame on you for all the tears in my life. Maybe that would be an easier way for me to start a new life. Look back my relationships, nothing was glorious, nothing was delighted to be mentioned. While I was crying to sleep, I wish I'd never waken up again. But there was always a hope that kept me alive, continuously being hurt by men no matter how old I was.
Maybe subconsciously, I was acting so miserable and waiting for you to rescue me in the end.
Categories: reflections
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