It's sadder than you think, Trust me.
I can't even relate to those stupid songs about daddy issues and broken homes. I cry to them, wishing that I would feel only what I was singing, but every time, it's so much more.

It's deeper than "my dad left my family" or "my dad's in jail" or even "my dad's abusive".
It's all of the above, multiplied by fifty, and made to make no sense to people who aren't narcissistic and psychopathic.

We were just pawns in his game of chess, but to us, that game was life.

It was my life.


My heart drops just a bit every time I see myself do something, or hear myself think something that reminds myself of him.

Norman Joseph Nail.
He always, always carried around a purple bandana.
He wore white-wash jeans that were ripped at the heels.
He sat like a businessman on vacation, with his left upper ankle resting on top of his lower thigh.
Graying hair that stuck out in all directions, but was short enough to work.
stubble.
Electrifying, tired, light eyes that were a mix of grey and pale blue, that never showed emotion unless he was surprised.
Skin that was tan, red, and spotty all over.
Silver wire frame glasses.

Is it that I think that he really cared about me? I know he didn't care about my feelings for the sake of them, but maybe he did care about me, even if it was just for his own personal gain.

He had so much pride, but alot of it was rooted in us.

He's sick, but I love him, even though I have every reason to want him dead. I'm contradicting myself...I hate all that he's done, and it's selfish and unhealthy to want any of that back, but I miss my childhood. I miss him. Not Norman, but my dad. I miss the person I thought he was.
There's a hole in my chest where the father figure should be.

I miss him so much.