I can’t tell if I’m repeating the sins of my father because I’ve never seen his sins in person. I wonder how differently I would have turned out with his influence? Do I have the will in me to leave something I care about behind? Is abandonment embedded in my DNA? Is it a dormant beast waiting to be unleashed? Or have I already beaten these sane-less urges. Twenty-seven years in and I haven’t left too many shattered hearts behind. And those I might have, I know for a fact have mended.
Would he have held me back from my potential if he was around? Or is he holding me back by not being here? I usually take his absence as encouragement to be better than the thing that was never there. I’m essentially working with a clean slate; a blank sheet for my own blueprint. But still, a slight muse would have been amusing.