Jerk, provider, stranger, lover, abuser, loser. A "father" can be any of those things. You only get that title if you've knocked someone up or inherited someone's bastards. In my opinion anyway..I'm sure there's a god stricken woman out there that would try and prove me wrong. I say this because my father is non-existent. He might have had part in conceiving me but he is by no means what a "father" should be. The loving, caring, male figure that so many people speak so highly of. Quite frankly I don't even think it exists. Maybe at some point, somewhere in the world but definitely not here and not in my life. He's more of a friend, one that you can discard very easily. The one's you think have your back but don't when you really need them. He's cool when he wants to be and he is a lot but there's no attachment to him. Nothing connecting us besides dry humor, and the same last name. He is a man, unfamiliar to comforting a child's grief. He knows no nurturing other than the kind he provides to the full head of hair he is so greatly proud of. A man of 50 years old, I do love you. However, it's not like the love I have for my mother. It's different. A lesser love perhaps, one that doesn't involve pain or tears if he were to die. Providing my emotions kick in, it would be more of a "what a shame" love. I thank him though, for his music influence, for introducing me to the Rolling Stones as a young girl and for naming me Angie. For not being around and being exactly who he was, because it helped me become the person I am today.
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