To the Father I Never Met, and the Father I Wish I Never Had

I never knew my real father. I don’t even know who he is. If he were standing in front of me right now I would never know it was him. I have no lineage from him, no memories, no handed down wisdom. But maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe my real dad is worthless. Maybe he would have destroyed me with resentment, bitterness, and regret. To him I say, I’m glad I never knew you.

To my step-father the good for nothing drunk who did nothing but cause pain to my family growing up. To my step-father whose addiction to the bottle lead my sister down her own path to addiction (a path from which she still hasn’t escaped). To my step-father who drug my mother over have the country often drinking them into poverty to the point where they didn’t even have food to eat. To my step-father who cheated on my mother several times. I hate you. I will rejoice on the day your shit catches up with you and you breathe your last.

It makes me sick that I open FB and see so many people saying happy Father’s day to these husbands and fathers who have been so good to them. It makes me bitter. It makes me angry that I couldn’t have a relationship like that. Am I right to feel bad? Or am I just feeling sorry for myself?