For 20 years I have never been told what to do by a man.
For 20 years he never told me to sit up straight, to eat my vegetables, to turn the TV off, to do my homework, to go to my room, to change my tone…
For 20 years I never got to be hugged and thrown on his shoulders for a piggy back.
I will never get to see myself in him. Our gap between our two front teeth, our green eyes and olive skin. I am constantly asked is you father tall? I can only reply with I think so. My height is just another reminder of him.
Since I was 17 I laughed about not having a dad and when I was 18 I self proclaimed myself as having daddy issues.
20 years ago my mother left him. She left italy and an unwelcome home.
15 years ago was the last time I was in the same room as him and
10 years ago was the last time I held the phone up to my ear and heard him speak italian AT me.
5 years ago I received my last letter from him. Written in italian – another reminder that not only don’t I have him but I can’t even communicate with him…
When I’m asked what am I? I have to reply with “half italian”. I admit to half of me as if its a part of me when really a half of me is lost and nothing.
For 20 years I am reminded that theres someone out there who supposed to be mine and he wants nothing to do with me.
When I laugh that I have daddy issues people expect me to crave male attention, male approval, find love from any man who will sleep with me.
When I joke that I have daddy issues people think of sex workers and laugh to themselves slut, whore.
Daddy issues get pinned on me and every woman who was abandoned by him.
We get to be the bad ones because of him, instead of him being the bad one who left and caused me to be only half a person.
I will always roll my eyes when I see the love between a father and child.
I will always have a part of me missing.
For 20 years I have never been told what to do by a man." — josephine-rew (via josephine-rew)