Hurt
Hurt
Seems like it was yesterday
When I saw your face.
You told me how proud you were,
But I walked away.
If only I knew what I know today.
"My father? Oh, he's a fuckin' asshole. I hate him."
"Why?" he asked me. His dark, inquisitive eyes waiting for an answer. Fuck, he was gorgeous.
"I just do."
"Well there's gotta be a reason."
I signed and looked down at my hands. "He disowned me when he found out that I had sex when I was only 14."
"Oh," was all he said.
"Yeah. He tried to make up with me a few years back but I didn't need him. I don't need him. I never will need him." We were quiet for awhile. "He probably just wanted my money or something. Probably found out I was a lawyer and wanted a piece of my check. Tried to pull the 'I'm-so-sorry. I-know-what-I-did-was-wrong. I'm-so-glad-to-see-what-you've-become' bullshit. Pssh. Fuck that."
I would hold you in my arms.
I would take the pain away.
Thank you for all you've done.
Forgive all your mistakes.
There's nothing I wouldn't do
To hear your voice again.
Sometimes I wanna call you,
But I know you won't be there.
"Wow. That sucks." He twiddled his thumbs awkwardly.
"Tell me about it."
"Well... I love you."
"I know." I smiled and kissed him softly. "I love you, too."
"I gotta go, babe," he said, suddenly.
"Now?" I whined.
"Yeah. I gotta be at work in an hour."
"Alright," I replied.
Oh, I'm sorry for blaming you
For everything I just couldn't do.
And I've hurt myself
By hurting you.
I closed the door gently behind him. Why had he asked me about my father? Why had he brung up those painful memories? It's not his fault. I told myself. He didn't know. But the memory was still vivid in my mind. I remembered it like it was yesterday. Cliché, I know. But it was the truth. I could still hear the emotionless voices...
Some days I feel broke inside
But I won't admit.
Sometimes I just wanna hide
'Cause it's you I miss.
And it's so hard to say goodbye
When it comes to this.
"Your father has lung cancer." I remember that stone-faced doctor. That calm voice. That perfect hospital. I wanted to scream at him for being so nonchalant. "YOU FUCKER! DON'T REALIZE THAT MY FATHER IS DYING?!" Indeed, I hated the man. But he was still my father. My family. My blood.
Would you tell me I was wrong?
Would you help me understand?
Are you looking down upon me?
Are you proud of who I am?
We hadn't been in touch for 14 years. I hit 18 and cut off all contact with him. Here I was at 32, chatting it up with my father on his death bed. He looked so pitiful with all those tubes in him and machines that were constantly beeping. I wanted to snap his helpless, little neck. Granted, he didn't deserve me there. Hell, he didn't deserve for me to care. But I did. Something in me wanted closure. It had racked my brain incessantly for 14 years. But I had always been stubborn. Like father like daughter. A bit backwards from the norm, but what can I say?
There's nothing I wouldn't do
To have just one more chance,
To look into your eyes,
And see you looking back.
He died a week later. I had been too late. I had waited too long to patch things up. I still tell people that I hate my father, well, because I still do. I hate him but I love him because I have to. I love him because if I don't tell myself that I really do then a part of me dies a little more everyday. I die a bit to keep him some company. Mom is still around so he's gotta be lonely. It had always been us against the world. Until it was him against me.
Oh, I'm sorry for blaming you
For everything I just couldn't do
And I've hurt myself.
I didn't attend his funeral. It would've have been right. Mom begged and begged and it tore my heart in two to tell her over and over again 'no'. But I'm not one for death. Funerals scare me. Plus, I would have been expected to cry. Oh no, I don't do that. Besides, it was an open casket.
If I had just one more day
I would tell you how much that I've missed you
Since you have been away.
Oh, it's dangerous.
It's so out of line
To try and turn back time.
'Til this day, I don't know if my decisions and actions are morally right or wrong. And truth be told, I don't really give a rat's ass. I hated my father almost all of my life and until the end of his. But I came to see him when he needed me most. Doesn't that count for something or am I penny pinching values? It doesn't really matter now because he's gone. Sometimes, I wish I could change the past but that's not how things work. But if he were still here today, I make sure to tell him the truth. That I miss him. And more importantly, that I love him.
I'm sorry for blaming you
For everything I just couldn't do.
And I've hurt myself
By hurting you.
When I saw your face.
You told me how proud you were,
But I walked away.
If only I knew what I know today.
"My father? Oh, he's a fuckin' asshole. I hate him."
"Why?" he asked me. His dark, inquisitive eyes waiting for an answer. Fuck, he was gorgeous.
"I just do."
"Well there's gotta be a reason."
I signed and looked down at my hands. "He disowned me when he found out that I had sex when I was only 14."
"Oh," was all he said.
"Yeah. He tried to make up with me a few years back but I didn't need him. I don't need him. I never will need him." We were quiet for awhile. "He probably just wanted my money or something. Probably found out I was a lawyer and wanted a piece of my check. Tried to pull the 'I'm-so-sorry. I-know-what-I-did-was-wrong. I'm-so-glad-to-see-what-you've-become' bullshit. Pssh. Fuck that."
I would hold you in my arms.
I would take the pain away.
Thank you for all you've done.
Forgive all your mistakes.
There's nothing I wouldn't do
To hear your voice again.
Sometimes I wanna call you,
But I know you won't be there.
"Wow. That sucks." He twiddled his thumbs awkwardly.
"Tell me about it."
"Well... I love you."
"I know." I smiled and kissed him softly. "I love you, too."
"I gotta go, babe," he said, suddenly.
"Now?" I whined.
"Yeah. I gotta be at work in an hour."
"Alright," I replied.
Oh, I'm sorry for blaming you
For everything I just couldn't do.
And I've hurt myself
By hurting you.
I closed the door gently behind him. Why had he asked me about my father? Why had he brung up those painful memories? It's not his fault. I told myself. He didn't know. But the memory was still vivid in my mind. I remembered it like it was yesterday. Cliché, I know. But it was the truth. I could still hear the emotionless voices...
Some days I feel broke inside
But I won't admit.
Sometimes I just wanna hide
'Cause it's you I miss.
And it's so hard to say goodbye
When it comes to this.
"Your father has lung cancer." I remember that stone-faced doctor. That calm voice. That perfect hospital. I wanted to scream at him for being so nonchalant. "YOU FUCKER! DON'T REALIZE THAT MY FATHER IS DYING?!" Indeed, I hated the man. But he was still my father. My family. My blood.
Would you tell me I was wrong?
Would you help me understand?
Are you looking down upon me?
Are you proud of who I am?
We hadn't been in touch for 14 years. I hit 18 and cut off all contact with him. Here I was at 32, chatting it up with my father on his death bed. He looked so pitiful with all those tubes in him and machines that were constantly beeping. I wanted to snap his helpless, little neck. Granted, he didn't deserve me there. Hell, he didn't deserve for me to care. But I did. Something in me wanted closure. It had racked my brain incessantly for 14 years. But I had always been stubborn. Like father like daughter. A bit backwards from the norm, but what can I say?
There's nothing I wouldn't do
To have just one more chance,
To look into your eyes,
And see you looking back.
He died a week later. I had been too late. I had waited too long to patch things up. I still tell people that I hate my father, well, because I still do. I hate him but I love him because I have to. I love him because if I don't tell myself that I really do then a part of me dies a little more everyday. I die a bit to keep him some company. Mom is still around so he's gotta be lonely. It had always been us against the world. Until it was him against me.
Oh, I'm sorry for blaming you
For everything I just couldn't do
And I've hurt myself.
I didn't attend his funeral. It would've have been right. Mom begged and begged and it tore my heart in two to tell her over and over again 'no'. But I'm not one for death. Funerals scare me. Plus, I would have been expected to cry. Oh no, I don't do that. Besides, it was an open casket.
If I had just one more day
I would tell you how much that I've missed you
Since you have been away.
Oh, it's dangerous.
It's so out of line
To try and turn back time.
'Til this day, I don't know if my decisions and actions are morally right or wrong. And truth be told, I don't really give a rat's ass. I hated my father almost all of my life and until the end of his. But I came to see him when he needed me most. Doesn't that count for something or am I penny pinching values? It doesn't really matter now because he's gone. Sometimes, I wish I could change the past but that's not how things work. But if he were still here today, I make sure to tell him the truth. That I miss him. And more importantly, that I love him.
I'm sorry for blaming you
For everything I just couldn't do.
And I've hurt myself
By hurting you.