Sometimes i forget what my dads voice sounds like, and then he talks to me. His lips open and let out bitter, thin words that always seem to jump from his mind to his mouth with no thinking in between. The cracks in his lips are chapped because he doesnt care for chapstick, it may be to effeminate for him. His eyes, black, pioneer his feelings. Full and dark, they seem to depict a lifetime of regret, of pain, even emptiness. I forget what he is saying at this point, something about his truck and im lazy or something like that. Im always short for words, which makes me look stupid in front of him, but im so captivated by who this person is. It is then that i realize he is where i came from. He is my father. Defeated, i stand there, with no response to his accusations that im not really working or going to school. That instead I’m partying and wasting money on friends. He cant see the 40 hours i try so desperately hard to work each week, or the 17 units of classes i have to keep me in school full time, and for a second, he makes me believe i havent done anything, at all with my life. Snap, bang, boom. All i can see is my reflection in his eyes. As dark as they are, i see myself, in his eyes, staring at me. My own eyes are red at this point, heavy and wet, shiny with tears. This is all i see because then he turns around to walk back to his room.
