My father was a notable man. He was a wonderful and also a strict father to both his natural and adopted children. He was an author, a much revered writer for children's literature and poems. Should I be ashamed because my father can't write in English? I have found myself constantly asking myself this question as I was growing up.
All of my father's books were all written in his local language which is "Yoruba", but what I surely know is that my father is a very good writer. Even still, everything about my father is special; the way he dresses, the way he moves, the way he behaves, the way he speaks. Sometimes, I just think that it could be great, if I could be even a slight percent of what he is.
My father is tall and thin, he always has his hair cut short, and he is grey-haired. He dresses in all kinds of clothes; tight-fitting, dark, clear, cheap, expensive, soft, formal, informal, sportive. All his clothes are different, and I like them. His clothes fit well with the way he looks. In other words my dad's appearance is simply unique.
It wouldn't be too okay if I don't describe the bad side of my father. However, when you know him as I do, you would never have wished to have a father like that. My dad's life is very boring and he has no one to spend his time with because he chose to be a sadist and he is always concerned with writing and he doesn't get tired of writing unreal stories. How can I make his life interesting? I started to ask myself. How can I help him find enjoyment in life?
My parents were married for almost 30 years, and it was often a discussion with my mother about my father's lack of attention for her. Many times, dad always avoids interacting with his children. He provided everything for the family and he never talked or bragged about it. Though my father is physically present, I feel like he's not there emotionally. I feel like I'm talking to a distant friend anytime I have a talk with him.
I have shared this experience for 23 years and it got pretty deep and detailed when I discussed it to him but it was to no use. I ended up removing all feelings from my father, in part because I already pictured he was not a good father. I hate being at home because it's boring and it often makes me depressed. I also hate being outside because of the insecurity in my hood.
I've been depressed everyday and I hate the life I'm living. I have no abilities and no interests, with all of this I have no friends, even in school. My siblings and I have social anxiety, are cowardly, and have no personality. My mother travels a lot because of the lack of affection from my father. "What a boring home".