A Little Story Before Bed
Ever since my mom passed away 2 months ago, I’ve been feeling extra lonely. With or without someone the feeling is still there, but at least it’s better when I am left with someone. So, I thought why not invite a friend to come over? It wouldn’t hurt, plus I would be feeling less miserable. She came over and we already had a plan to cook for dinner tonight as it’s already the end of the month where us being college students would eat anything to survive the day.
With a friend coming over and cooking dinner with me, it made me feel a bit joyful. I was frying the chicken that I left in the fridge 2 weeks ago, while my friend was chopping the onions and the chillis. Suddenly her phone ringing and it was her father who video-called her. She answered and they were talking while she was still doing her thing. I could barely understand what they were talking about as they were talking in Javanese language. I turned around to her for a bit and continued to what I was doing before. Little did I know I teared up a little, I could feel my nose was starting to get red, and last but not least, I could feel my heart breaking into pieces.
Long story short, my father has always been emotionally absent in my life. I mean, physically, yeah sure he is there. I could still see him on semester breaks as I am still living with him. But, he’s never there for me emotionally. He’s never been interested in my life since I was kid.
I feel like I try so hard to hide it from people. I feel like I want people to know that I am still fine with him not being there, at all. But every time I see little things that my friends experience with their fathers, my heart cries. When they get phone calls from their fathers, when their fathers talk so lovely to them, when my friends tell me that their fathers would never put hands on them, basically when their dads doing what a dad is supposed to be doing. My heart knows that it wants those things, too.
Well, a side note. I’m happy for my friends. I am happy that their dads treat them with love, as it should be. But my 23 years old self is still wondering how that feels like. You know, I am still sitting here on my desk, the clock shows it’s 2.00am over here, and here I am, still thinking over that little thing that happened like 6 hours ago. I wish I would have known that feeling. I wish I didn’t have to google about sh*t dads because that’s the only thing that describes how I am feeling right now.
I feel like I might be 23 years old, a young adult, but what’s inside me is still that little girl who wishes that her dad would at least look at her with love as that little girl is trying to be the best she can be. That girl might not be as best as his nieces, or the neighbors he’s always trying to compare to. But, that little girl, is really trying her best. That little girl is 23 now, and she’s still hoping that her father would at least take a responsibility and be a real dad. She hates you still tho, for what you have done to her. But she’s also hoping that one day you would change.
