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Note to Self

12.1.22 12:45 pm
Written by
around :
12.1.22 12:45 pm
there :
45.49855422973633,
-73.55747985839844
Write back to him :
And now, the more I try to push myself away from my dad's mistakes, the more I feel drawn to the conclusion that I do things the same way he does.

I think what scares me the most is the fact that my dad and I each made the promise to never make the same mistake our father made. Thing is, I had a front row seat to see him lose himself to the same issues he blamed my grandfather for. And now, the more I try to push myself away from my dad's mistakes, the more I feel drawn to the conclusion that I do things the same way he does.

I wish there were a more humble way to talk about this. Because I want to make myself very clear : My father is a great man. He's kind, smart and awfully creative. Despite the fact that I see in him the potential that most can't, the burdens of the father pass down to the son and I have to be not better, but more understanding of my own flaws. What is it about me that makes me brave when I'm with other people but avoidant when faced alone with responsibility?

How can I say I'm a creative type when I end up creating nothing but stories about myself?

What is it I'm scared of by ending up like him? What is it about his life that makes me cower about my own future? How am I letting his certainty affect my possibilities? What's the fucking pattern here?

I guess it starts where he first failed; by his promise. He didn't live up to his word and I believe it makes me anxious about my own. I mean, he suffered of the same abandonment he exposed my brother and I to. He knew just like I know how fucking shitty of a move it is to be left fatherless. And he did it anyway. He failed me like he failed his business, like he failed my mom, my brother, his parents and more importantly; himself. All of that, even though he was conscious of what he inflicted on all of us; he had been on the other side of the mirror.

So as I'm about to potentially repeat history, I can't found my trust in my own words because apparently, life happens. But then again, not trusting myself is akin to a paranoia that is itself more constraining than my first worry. If not my father, I still have to be someone.

Then this can't become a somehow elaborate version of the same promise. I will not be counting the days until I finally betray myself and break my word. There will be no word. There is only me. There is only today. That is who and what I'll serve.