When I was five I watched my father drink until his cheeks were rosy pink but I didn’t think anything of it as he playfully chased me on my bike on a warm August evening. The lower the sun sank into the earth, the more Budweiser cans would open and my mother would turn a blind eye so I couldn’t tell how tired and solemn she looked until I was sixteen and I noticed they didn’t talk anymore. My father couldn’t look at me when he asked how my day was, pouring another can of beer into a glass and the foam poured over the rim just like my anger and pure resentment for the man who used to make me laugh until I cried and now the tears soon flowed for different reasons. . My parent’s relationship crumbled as did my heart as I watched my father’s alcohol intake increase and the love I thought he had for me vanish.
“Remember when you cried when I got my driver’s license?” I was ignored as he swirled beer around in his glass. “Do you still care? Don’t blame this on me.” A simple text he sent to his own daughter “I never want to see you again.” Deep in the core of my being resided a hatred for a sorry human being who dared to call himself a man once his true feelings revealed themselves. Soon I was twenty five and I found myself still wondering why I was blamed for his own disease and I realized I could be as boiling angry, hurt, and confused and clench my fists until they burned just hearing his name it just wouldn’t change anything. He has become a floating memory creeping deeper and deeper in the back of my mind drowning in liquor until he completely fades.