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My dad tells me I’m going places
He talks about how my oldest sister has the sweetest heart despite her disabilities, he talks about how my middle sister is so beautiful now, and me?
Well, I’m going places.
He tells me he loves me,
which is something I rarely hear. Because his is genuine.
His isn’t “love ya” at the end of a FaceTime with your friend, it isn’t just synonymous with “bye.”
His has emotions behind it. Sometimes I feel like even my mom isn’t genuine when she says it.
I wonder if my dads love for me is out of guilt.
He left when I was in middle school. Toughest years of your life and he knows he made them worse.
Maybe he feels bad that I’m the ugly one.
He knows my sister gets attention, but I never do from anyone outside of the family.
I swear even my grandmother likes her better, she is something that my grandma and parents can gladly put their name on.
Yes, I’m responsible for that beauty. They gladly sign their names at the bottom of her portrait because she is worthy of praise and admiration.
I’m that sketch on the corner of your notes.
That thing that is amusing and maybe you’ll show the kid next to you in class but after that day, I go unnoticed.
No one ever frames the doodles on history notes.
No one ever signs them either. Sometimes I go back through my notes and smile when I see a well drawn hand or a funny shark wearing a hula shirt or something, but even then, it’s not worth ripping out of the notebook.
I wonder how many doodles I’ve forgotten.
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