It was painful to tell him what I felt, but it was better than keeping it in. I was on the phone listening to another one of my dad’s pathetic excuses on how he couldn’t pay for me to go see him. My hair in a frizzy mess due to my trembling fingers that ran through it an infinite amount of times. It infuriated me, knowing how much money he made and how many unnecessary things he paid for. With all that, he couldn’t pay for his only daughter to see him. I wasn’t surprised. In fact, I was devastated , disappointed and upset. “Don’t call me again. You’ve never treated me like a daughter, I was just another obligation. Well, now I won’t be bothering you anymore. Go, live your rich life full of joy and a big happy family. Live the life that you didn't provide for me. You know, I would rather live this horrible life not knowing who you are, then knowing who you were and knowing that you didn’t care.” I waited a second, listening to his breath out of sync with mine, heavy and dry. With that, I hung up.

I looked out the window of my room, the sky partially dark, and partially bright, my room..half dark and half bright. The walls of my room slowly closing in on me, spinning around my head. I couldn’t breathe and as I watched the trees move with the wind, I tried to match my breathing patterns to their movements. It was a plan that would never work at that moment.

I guess what hurt me the most was, I thought he changed. I thought that his past life had ceased to exist, and, based off of his explanations, he was renewed. I was wrong. I had fallen into his trap and believed his beautiful lie. Caring was not in his world, and his fatherly love did not apply to me. I was done, with him, with his lies, and with myself. I sat there, in the corner of my suddenly small room and cried, desperately attempting to not let my mother hear me. If she heard me, I would have to prepare myself for a lecture on how I needed to toughen up, and how he wasn’t worth my tears. I would reply with something near to “she wouldn’t know because she had the father who was there for her all her life.” I envy her. I want what she has.

A dad who cares.

There comes a point in time where you lose yourself. Not the type where you attack;
everyone, but when you don’t know who you are. You lose yourself in the way a mother loses her only son. That small but essential part that drives the fuel to your soul to continue living, slowly and quietly tip-toes away like a toddler would do on Christmas Eve waiting for a Santa that never exists. Feelings become numb, the brain doesn't function and, in my case, my heart stopped to feel. Pain and heartbreaks were out of my world, and with them went joy, love, happiness, anything you could possibly think to feel. A number of events added to this feeling, but my dad was the one that set it off.

It was destined to happen, like it was destined for the Sun to leave the Moon everyday. I couldn’t change the fact that my life would always be like this, corrupt and incomplete. I was use to the daily arguments with my mom, she’d be yelling at me, and I would stand there biting deep into my lip until I tasted the metallic taste. Then there was school. I was used to being called a fatty, a no life and a religious freak. I could handle anything the world could throw at me...besides one.

My dad.

I was never the same, nightly tears and morning sobs were my daily routine, eventually it was just another thing. Red lines soon covered my wrists like a bad piece of art, jumbled words and cold rage ran inside me. They were the lines that could kill me, but eventually saved me. these deadly sweet lines, were the ones that filled the words on my papers, the ones I would hide from the world. It was the point of no return.

I was gone, and the new me was just like the weeds that would conquer the beautiful fields of white roses. After a few days, my room felt as if it was slowly closing in, my eyesight was blurry, chest aching, and the urge to scream was rising. I needed to let it out, I had to, and I did.

I plunged onto my bed and screamed into four pillows and then I cried. I cried for hours and I was sure that the makeup that was plastered on my face was now on my old, beige, pillows. It felt like instead of the world stopping, it was spinning in a fast twirl, my head going with it. Was this insanity? I repressed the thought and fell into the sweet arms of the gentle nightmares of misplaced dreams. This was the new me.

The next day, shades were now a part of my attire. I had awoken with redden and swollen eyes, makeup wasn't working, neither was a good splash of icy water to the face. My Ray Bans would do. School was dreadful as I attempted to hold in the tears of a broken girl. I wanted to keep my image of the strong girl I was, the one with walls ten feet tall and teen feet thick surrounding her. I wouldn't let a single tear be seen by anyone, not even my passing reflection in the shattered windows.

No one noticed the plastic Barbie smile I had put on. White, clearly un-straightened teeth, fake shimmer in my eyes, and a laugh that could even fool me. As time went by, I got worse. Life seemed to throw all the bad things at me, arguments everyday, failing grades, thinking mid, crying eyes. It was unstoppable, or so I thought.

The moment I got accepted into the high school of my dreams, everything changed. Life was a little sweeter, the icy tears only visited when the moment was right, and my heart, well it was beginning to feel once again. I was me, with a few weeds left. I was the girl I used to be, the one who didn't let anything get to her.

I was saved, but no masked hero came swooping in to rescue me, as a matter of a fact, no one saved me, I saved myself. I became the “big girl” and remembered I needed to be strong for my mom, for my family. I reminded myself that what happened with me was the least of importance, but I needed to protect them, it would fill up the dark hollow heart that was beating in my frozen chest.

My dad, to this day, never calls, or texts, and if he does it’s to ask me how my life has been, but given the textual words and evidence, it is clear his wife sent it and not him. So I believed he is gone, and that he was never my dad, it was the only way that I could move on. It was a shame knowing the daughter he never had would do it, but it had to be done. I was tired of being an obligation.

I was done with being an obligation. After the pain and the tears, I realized that he would either make an effort, or forget about me in general. It’s harsh, but after 13 years of hearing the same thing, I lost the mushy part of my heart and armor replaced it.

I lost myself for a second, lost in the world of weeds that took the life out of the tall white, delicate roses. In that second, I ran out of tears, and feelings, but in that second I learned. I learned that I could be lost for a millennium, but at the end of the story, I would still be me, just a little stronger.