Damaged

Damage 

Silence. It was worse than anything I had imagined. The yelling, the questioning, I think I'd prefer that to this. There he sat, reminding me of the tide retreating into itself before the wave, no, tsunami takes form, destroying everything in its path. The silence continued until I thought that it would never end but finally he said, "I'm sorry". He's sorry? For what? He didn't do anything, but maybe that's the point. 

He's sorry he wasn't there when I felt I needed him. 

He's sorry he wasn't there to make sure I didn't go chasing love. 

He's sorry that he wasn't more involved before this all started. 

He's sorry he wasn't there when I felt so alone. 

He's sorry he wasn't there when I made that first slice in my skin. 

He's sorry he wasn't there to stop me. 

"Dad, that's not why I'm telling you this. I just.." 

How do I tell him I am out of options without telling him that he's the last one I choose? That the truth is, I didn't want him to know at all? 

"...don't know what to do anymore. I tried dealing with it, but I feel so far gone." I say, the sentence fading out as if to represent how I have the last few years. More silence. He stares down at the countertop like it holds the answers we've both been looking for. I decide to stare too. I'm not sure how much time passes before he finally decides to ask, "How was I supposed to know?" 

I want to say when your social butterfly was not so social anymore. I want to say that the signs were there, how could you not know? I want to say that if I wasn't so afraid of your judgement, I would have told you myself. But I don't, instead I lie. 

"I don't know" I whisper, glancing down at my hands. It is now that I see the pain in his eyes as he looks at his little girl so lost in sadness and he didn't even notice. 

I want to hug him. I want to tell him it's okay, but I don't think it is. We accept the fact that our parents will damage us, but we do not think about if we will damage our parents. I just did. I'm not sure if there was something I could have done differently. I'm not sure if I should have told him or not. But I am sure that this is better than finding his little girl's body next to an empty bottle of pills. 

The conversation doesn't last much longer. He asks if there is anything he can do. I reply with a list much smaller than he'd be satisfied with, but he accepts it nonetheless. I don't know where we'll go from here, but hopefully it's somewhere less damaging.