There are times that I feel I don’t even know you. Times that seem to never fade away.  But, as a child who dealt with you leaving day after day I feel like I shouldn’t be so scared. At age 5, I was little boy wishing to be all he could be.  A kid that any dad would want.  I wanted to be just like you.  Big muscles, strong voice and my own company.  At age 10, I was growing tired of you.  But, I was still a boy, unwilling to see what was actually happening.  You’re seemingly unending verbal abuse secrets a deadly poison into my veins.  Now as I slowly creep my testosterone levels up, up and away, I’ll start to pull down your kaleidoscope colored curtains.  By 15, we couldn’t be more separate.  Divided by dinnertime arguments and back-talking homework battles.  The more you speak, the more I want to leave this house and never come back.  I sometimes wish I could change things but, it’s too little, too late.  At age 16 to the day, I step in the labyrinth that confines me to find you raged and red-faced and she is on the phone, canceling the party. My not-so-sweet 16 ended in a hotel room, filled with unshown tears and bags of Cheez-its. Then, I finally decided who you were to me the day I went to tell my mother about my day at school.  Tears ran like the free-flowing waters of the Amazon as she tried to defend you’re already broken armor.  My brain ran 653 miles an hour as she spoken of a deed I thought unspeakable.  You call me on the phone and say “I don’t know what to say, bro.”  Well, “bro” how about “I’m sorry for literally breaking every life long lesson I’ve taught you and I’m sorry for smashing the hearts and minds of our family.”  That can get you by on our 3 minute 27 second phone call.  Now, I look at you and can’t decide.  Are you still the man with big muscles, strong voice and his own company? or are the shell of a man I still wish I knew?  I wish I could answer but, There are times that I feel like I don’t even know you.