I sometimes wish that you were still here. That things didn’t go the way they did, and that you and mom could have worked it out. I wish that five year-old me did not grow up thinking it was all my fault. Wishing I wasn’t born so that maybe, just maybe, you two could have been happy. I blamed myself for so long, and I never told anyone.
I wish that you didn’t cause me nightmares. I wish that I didn’t have to suffer for so long. Did mom not tell you what you were doing to me? Did you ever care, or was your need stronger than anything else? Things like this make it hard for me to believe that you ever loved me. That you do now.
Norberto, why did you have me? Why did you name me? Why is it that your genetics are what make up the majority of my person? If you weren’t going to stay then why do any of this? Mom says that you grew up without a father... So you had to have me suffer too?
For a few years now the same question has been circling in my head. No matter what I do, it stays. It festers. It does not grow into anything more but it does stay unanswered. I do not believe you will tell me the truth either.
Did you ever love me?
To my dad.