Post by EvanescenceFan121381 on Oct 24, 2005 20:02:19 GMT -5
I can't seem to come up with a title for this one, but I'll post it anyway. This is basically a twisted version of my own story with a few added details that I wish had been true. I'll explain the differences after the story.
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I have a vague memory of a wonderful dad playing with his favorite little daughter under the Christmas tree. That little daughter is having so much fun; she loves her dad and all her new toys. I like to think that little daughter is me. But is it a real memory? Perhaps it is a dream. Or maybe just something my mind made up to hide the pain.
I like to think my dad will change one day. That he'll stop drinking and he'll stop smoking and he'll just be a good dad again. That it'll be safe to live with him because he'll have a good job and he won't get drunk. That he'll have a real house that doesn't smell like tobacco or have empty bottles of beer all over the place. But I know deep down that it can't happen, that there are too many things working against it.
You see, my dad never used to be like this. We used to have a big house with a beautiful garden, and my parents got along perfectly. Or, I think so, anyway. I've seen pictures of the house, and it looks like they were happy; standing there, smiling, with a little baby in his arms: me.
But then something happened, I'm not sure what. My mom doesn't talk about it. And then, basically, it all went downhill from there. My dad started drinking and became a total alcoholic. He started smoking and got addicted to that, too.
I've given him too many chances, and this time it's just too much. I've given up on my hopes that he'll change, and I'll have to deal with the pain that comes with that. But there's no changing the past. What's done is done, and we just have to accept that, even when we don't want to.
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So. Differences. Right. Well, the beginning, the vague memory... I don't really have any of those. I have memories of my sister and me thinking of all these silly little plots to make him stop drinking and smoking, but I don't really have many good, happy moment, everything's perfect, kind of memories. And I used to have such hopes that one day he'd change, that everything would be all right again. But his whole family does it, so they have no problem with it, and my mom and my sister and me have very little power to make him see what he's doing. And the part about his house is absolutely true.
But, he started drinking when he was a teenager, long before he met my mom, and he started smoking when it actually was legal, but again, before he met my mom. We never had a big house. My parents lived in an appartment in Somerset until I was a year old, at which point, they got married (yes, I was born before they got married, if you have a problem with it, bite me). And then they moved to a condo in Monmouth Juction, and they got divorced when I was little. I have very, very vague memories of lying in my bed listening to them fight, but they're so vague and undetailed that I'm not even sure if they're real.
And I really have given him so many chances, but it just doesn't work, and this time, I've finally given up. If he stays the way he is now, I don't care if I never see him again. But if he ever did change, maybe, just maybe, I'd give him one final chance and want to see him again.
And I like myself and I like the way I am, and I know that if they hadn't met and gotten married and all that, I wouldn't exist. But I just feel like my mom made a big mistake in choosing him. And I've promised myself over and over that I won't make the same one. I've said to myself that if I ever have a friend or girlfriend and I find out they do something like that, that I'll leave them. And I have no doubt that I will.
~~~~~~~~
I have a vague memory of a wonderful dad playing with his favorite little daughter under the Christmas tree. That little daughter is having so much fun; she loves her dad and all her new toys. I like to think that little daughter is me. But is it a real memory? Perhaps it is a dream. Or maybe just something my mind made up to hide the pain.
I like to think my dad will change one day. That he'll stop drinking and he'll stop smoking and he'll just be a good dad again. That it'll be safe to live with him because he'll have a good job and he won't get drunk. That he'll have a real house that doesn't smell like tobacco or have empty bottles of beer all over the place. But I know deep down that it can't happen, that there are too many things working against it.
You see, my dad never used to be like this. We used to have a big house with a beautiful garden, and my parents got along perfectly. Or, I think so, anyway. I've seen pictures of the house, and it looks like they were happy; standing there, smiling, with a little baby in his arms: me.
But then something happened, I'm not sure what. My mom doesn't talk about it. And then, basically, it all went downhill from there. My dad started drinking and became a total alcoholic. He started smoking and got addicted to that, too.
I've given him too many chances, and this time it's just too much. I've given up on my hopes that he'll change, and I'll have to deal with the pain that comes with that. But there's no changing the past. What's done is done, and we just have to accept that, even when we don't want to.
~~~~~~~~
So. Differences. Right. Well, the beginning, the vague memory... I don't really have any of those. I have memories of my sister and me thinking of all these silly little plots to make him stop drinking and smoking, but I don't really have many good, happy moment, everything's perfect, kind of memories. And I used to have such hopes that one day he'd change, that everything would be all right again. But his whole family does it, so they have no problem with it, and my mom and my sister and me have very little power to make him see what he's doing. And the part about his house is absolutely true.
But, he started drinking when he was a teenager, long before he met my mom, and he started smoking when it actually was legal, but again, before he met my mom. We never had a big house. My parents lived in an appartment in Somerset until I was a year old, at which point, they got married (yes, I was born before they got married, if you have a problem with it, bite me). And then they moved to a condo in Monmouth Juction, and they got divorced when I was little. I have very, very vague memories of lying in my bed listening to them fight, but they're so vague and undetailed that I'm not even sure if they're real.
And I really have given him so many chances, but it just doesn't work, and this time, I've finally given up. If he stays the way he is now, I don't care if I never see him again. But if he ever did change, maybe, just maybe, I'd give him one final chance and want to see him again.
And I like myself and I like the way I am, and I know that if they hadn't met and gotten married and all that, I wouldn't exist. But I just feel like my mom made a big mistake in choosing him. And I've promised myself over and over that I won't make the same one. I've said to myself that if I ever have a friend or girlfriend and I find out they do something like that, that I'll leave them. And I have no doubt that I will.
