My biological dad called today. He asked if I was doing okay. When I was in the middle of telling him about wanting to meet my sisters when they got older, he interrupted me and asked if I could send down some money. You know, just a couple of thousand bucks.
I didn't know what to say, so I sort of just held my breath for a bit. Then he started talking again. "don't you love me?". I didn't want him to hear my cry, so I hung up, lay down on my bed and pulled a duvet over myself.
I've spent years trying to track him down, to apologize for being a brat when he met me back in April 04.. But I actually regret having heard from him again. Ok, that wasn't a nice thing to say, but it's just.. You know, it hurts.
A friend of mine once asked me why I answered my biological dad's calls anyway. I understood his question, but at the same time it disappointed me that he didn't see it from my side. Like, he's my fucking dad. I want to know him. I want him to know me. And even though I know he's more interested in my wallet than me, I still cling to the hope that he'll see me for what I really am one day. His daughter - not an ATM.
Oh well, shit happens. Gotta suck it up.
On a lighter note: Just finished reading Day By Day Armageddon. Again. For the 3rd time within a week. J.L Bourne, I love you. One of the best zombie novels. Ever.
Dun dun dun, what to read next.
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