I don't even know what to call him. He haven't been around for a single moment of my life, nor has he expressed any regret for that, up until now.

I cannot bring myself to call him my father, my dad or anything remotely close to that. I have my dad, and he is twice the man that Patrick have ever been. His sperm donation was appreciated, but it does not grant him any titles

I understand that he never cared, but even so, because of him I am scarred. As years passed, the burden somehow becomes heavy, and the weight that lies upon my shoulders has progressed. Today, with all of me, I’m trying to let him go. I will not waste nights crying over someone who did not think twice about making the choice that ruined my life. I will not waste hours contemplating why you decided I was not worth staying for. Although I am eager to let him go, the part of me that remains broken by him swells under pressure.

I have been hurting more than he know or care to recognize. Because he actively chose not to participate in my life, some people assume that I am less valuable than other guys. I am no longer a boy with "father issues." Instead, I am now a fatherless person, and it is assumed my life must be half-empty. Years of rehabilitative therapy have led me to the realization that this is not my fault – it is his. He is to blame for this unfortunate situation. I almost wish I had done something to provoke an incident as heartbreaking as the one I live through.

My pain is real, and he is very real to me. But faced with that gaping hole he left behind, a wonderful man chose to step up to the plate and take on the title “dad.” He taught me how to ride a bike, to stand up for myself, to cook, to treat a girl right, to create and to love those around me with such a fire that it inspires them to do the same. No one can ever take the place of the incredible man who raised me, for he was willing to do what he was incapable of. And by God, did he miss out. This man picked me up right where he left off, dusted me off and molded me into a functioning man. The lingering thought of Patrick used to stain the back of my mind, but today, I make the decision to wash this stain away and eliminate any thought of him that may rear its ugly head.

I am through constantly questioning my value, done being heartbroken over his fatal errors and sick and tired of crying over him. Unanswered questions thoroughly haunted my mind for more than a decade. There are so many missing links to my story because he did not take the opportunity to know me. My initial response to hearing about him doing these things was simply to ask why. I wondered what I had done wrong, why I was not good enough for him. Years later, I learned about him being abusive, mind controlling, smoking and alcoholism images in my mind were actually true.

I am no longer alone, though I felt that I had been for most of my life. The worst part was and still is the feeling of isolation – that no one can seem to understand why his absence from my life was unbearably painful at times. To put it simply, the knowledge of his absence scarred me. Learning that it was an active choice ruined me. Hearing about the vile, disgusting things you inflicted upon those I hold dear enraged me.

I realize that his actions and choices made him rotten from the inside out. Nonetheless, I pray that one day, he find himself, for he have been wandering too long. Though he had hurt me every single day, I can’t help but somehow forgive him. My real father has been here for the past 13 years. Out of respect for him, I will never refer to Patrick as anything more than biological. This man is simply half of the genetic recipe, and that is the only role he will ever play in my life.

They thought I didn’t know better but I did,

Thought I didn’t understand but I did,

So like people they,

Said tell us of your problem make them known to us,

Like saints they wanted listen,

Like fools they did not know,

Don’t complain they harshly spoke out,

You only do complain,

But they told me I had to speak I could not keep it in,

If complaining is its definition I do not see it wrong

People tell me words have meaning but people

Sometimes use them wrong,

Yet I understand them right or wrong so what then is the problem.

The problem isn’t words at all it’s what you do and do not know,

Unless you can convince the world they’ll look you down this way,

To not complain is to not share grief,

It’s to hide your soul inside,

In my understanding that is both good and bad,

Which I’ve heard to be impossible,

Oh the wonderful things you learn from men,

When you know nothing about the world

You said you’d listen, that you’d admire, but am I the only one who reads what I inspire, I suppose that is why I expire.

I am your dark blue sweater,

the one you wear when you walk

to work on cold, Tuesday mornings.

I hang on your skin in the rain

and you don’t realize how the color

makes your eyes deeper, brighter.

I am the sweet, musky aroma

that clings to you in the smoky bar,

your last memory as you drift into sleep.

Slip me over your head, slide your hands

through my dark spaces, feel my warmth

like candlelight brushing your skin.

Actions speak louder than words do, it’s pretty quite, isn’t it? Look at the world we live in, defined by comment sections. Surround yourself with people that challenge how you think. Not people that nod their head and act like they agree. Those people will cut you open just to watch you bleed. Always be yourself, not the person that you pretend to be.

Do you ever feel like even your struggles are failures. Like you’re not good enough to be good but you don’t struggle enough to say you struggle. You’re caught in an in-between. And when you fail it hurts more then you feel it should, you’re not good enough to actually do better, but you’re not bad enough to do this poorly. How do you fix such a mindset?

You disappear, when you think that you’re struggling youre only reminded that others have it worse, when you think that you’re successful, you’re belittled by those who are better than you. No matter how much you change the world that recognizes you will remind you who they think you are.

So you dissolve, vanish, gone in anyway you find possible. And those of you who have not left the world completely, look into a mirror and try to find yourself, but there stands an army of defeated veterans. Soldiers who use to fight for you.

All your past selfs stare back at you, victims of a useless war. You lost, not because you couldn’t win, but because you fought on the wrong side.

We do not believe that we were worth fighting for, not because of our failures, not because we’re think we’re are not good enough, but because we could not find a reason to be successful.

Your words have done many things to my mind and soul, but it can not hurt my body. So inside of it they hide, shards of a greater man, a fire consumed by an even greater power.

You do not believe I am strong enough, otherwise you’d allow me to risk it all. Yet you tell me I am too strong to fail so you will not except my failures. But it was I whom failed me, for I entrusted myself to you, disowning my own banners I fought myself for you. And like the dragon I am a burned everything you did not approve of swallowing them up.

I am a pitiful beast, not strong enough to breath the fire anymore, but just enough to keep them consumed so they do not burn you.

I'm sorry you missed out when I went to school for the first time,

And you didn't have me tell you that you were all mine.

I'm sorry you weren't there to take me to the mall,

And you weren't there to tell me I have to stand tall.

Sorry you weren't the one I saw when I came home that day

Or the one I'd run to when I had a bad day.

I'm sorry you didn't hear me write these; you'd have been so proud,

And you weren't there to lift me up on a cloud.

Sorry you weren't there to tell me there's nothing to fear,

But then again you should have been here.

I'm sorry you weren't the one to teach me to ride a bike,

Or the one who took me on my first ride.

I'm sorry you weren't the one who carried me on his back.

That was my other daddy, the one I actually had!

Or the one who held me tight when strength is what I lacked.

I'm sorry you weren't the one to hold me when I cried

Or tell me I did great when I really tried.

I'm sorry you were never there to teach me how to cook

Or there at night to read me my favorite book,

I'm sorry me as a daughter is what you never had.

You will always be my father, but you will never be my dad.