When I come back home I’m going to make a bigger effort to be nicer to my dad. Before I left, the level of respect I had for my dad was next to zero. Words of the past would come out of my mouth like shots of fire. I was rude, I was inconsiderate. I snooped down to his level of anger and that is something I am not proud of. The respect I have for my dad is still next to zero, he has hurt my family and torn the woman of my heart; my mother, apart, for that I will never forgive him. But I do have a little more respect for me. And I would like to think that someday when I make the biggest mistake of my life, even though it will never ever amount to the damage he’s done in the lives of many, someone out there will lend a hand and still love me. Everyone wants to know that not their not alone, nobody wants to do it on their own. I am not the judge of anyone’s actions, he is my dad. And although he might not be a nice person, he’s alone. And for anyone that has ever been alone, for anyone that has ever had nobody to come home to and nothing to look forward to with not a voice that calls their name in delight, they know what levels of insanity they can reach.

I want to lend a hand to my dad and let him know I still love him because even though he’s never really done the same for anyone maybe it’s because he’s never learned how; maybe it’s time we teach him that he’s not alone out there. He still has me.