I did not ask to be born. But one day I was. I came crashing into this world at 2 am. You fainted as I arrived. Was it because of the fatherly love that hit you or because you were so young and unprepared? Whatever it was, you worked so hard and always did the best you could with what little you had.
I did not ask to be born. But one day I was.
One day I was riding high on your shoulders. One day I was climbing higher into trees under your watchful eye. One day I was learning to ride a bike with your guidance. One day you let go and sent me flying. We had daddy-daughter days and squirt gun fights during California's endless summers.
I did not ask to be born. But one day I was.
One day it all stopped. I don't know what changed. I still don't where you went the night I confessed my sins to you; the cuts that marred my wrists, the words "love me" etched across my waist hiding under my swim team suit. All I remember is. "Well, one more thing we need to get fixed" as you grabbed your keys walked out the door. You did not come home all night or even the next day. I don't know where you went or if you ever really came back. I don't know if you ever really tried to 'fix' me or if I just grew up and fixed myself.
I did not ask to be born. But one day I was. I've heard you drunkenly brag to the world that I am your greatest contribution. Yet, I can't remember the last time you ever made me feel loved. I want to be a therapist because creating space for people is something that makes me feel good. No matter how many times I've tried to tell you that I can't be your therapist, you still dump all your anger and frustration on me and I just can't hold it anymore. I can't fix you or even begin to help you if you don't want to fix or help yourself.
I did not ask to be born. But one day I was. Here I am; alive. Doing the best with what little I have. I have the privilege of pursuing my purpose and happiness. All thanks to you for working 6 graveyard shifts a week, for as long as I can remember. I guess some part of me would be angry too if I had never left my home state and worked a job I hate. I can recall all the frustration from being in a survival state but have made the choice to heal those wounds.
I did not ask to be born. But one day I was. Sometimes I wake up disappointed that I am still breathing. Disappointed that I have to keep doing this. Most days I get back to bed grateful I got up and did it anyway. Most days I live a great story. One day someone might read these stories and feel less alone.