Hey, Stranger

I was five years old when my father introduced us to Suzanne. He prepped us beforehand:

Be on your best behavior
Be nice
Behave

We went to the Miami-Dade County Zoo—Dad, Chris, Me… and Suzanne. I can only remember what I’ve seen in photographs and one distinct (and entirely true) anecdote wherein I said (in a nasally, childish voice):

“Dad… you lied…”

“How did I lie?”

“You said she was pretty.”

I suspect Suzanne has hated me since that day.

She gives the appearance of care, but never neglects to prick me with opinions about how I’m hurting the family, especially my father.

I’ve had enough of my father. And Suzanne. I’m at an age now where I no longer need to pretend. Never has it ever felt right. And it never will.

For my part, I can’t express myself around them. The words come out all wrong and the tears well up before I’ve mustered a sentence. I feel on the receiving end of such frigidity, judgment, contempt and misunderstanding—it’s enough to make me hide away forever.

If these pained relationships had appeared during adulthood, I would be much more scrutinizing. However, I have felt alienated since before I can remember.

Could it have been my fault when I was a child that I cried and screamed and filled with dread whenever my father came to take me to his house?

Whenever they have looked back on that time, they have always blamed me.
Crazy Steph—
“You know how you made your father look to the neighbours? To see you kicking and screaming like that…”

I look at childhood photos and I see it in my face—I remember feigning happiness each and every time.

It’s why I buried myself in drawing. I did it to be left alone. To avoid talking to you. Yes, I love drawing. No, I do not love you.
And why?
Because deep down inside I know that you hate me.
Or maybe I hate you?

Always, as long as I can remember, openmindedness has intuitively made sense to me. What could be wrong with openmindedness? Surely it leads to growth and enlightenment—the antidote of fear.

At some point, I have to live my life, turn my back on an ill-fitting past, and embrace the future I have elected. This is the path I have chosen. I would never impinge upon theirs.

I’m a stranger to my family.