I hate you

I've decided to start a new blog. I don't know, honestly, how well I'll be keeping up with it. And it's not going to be a great start.

A letter to my Dad:

Dear A.M.,

I hate you. I hate you for everything that you are. I hate that I looked up to you and that your opinion and approval meant so much to me. I hated that it was your disappointment I most feared. I hated that I forgave you for every single promise you broke. I hate that I was so understanding with you, despite not understanding a single thing about you. I hate what you have turned me into. And most of all, I hate that you died before I could become my own person.

It wasn't enough that you carved me into the new you. Maybe you wanted to become immortal. Maybe you wanted there to always be a "You" in this world. And maybe you fated me to do the same to my children, if I ever had any. You had three other sons, why did you do this to me? Why is it that you chose me, your third son, to become you? Why did you make yourself out to be a God in my eyes? Did you not realize what might have happened?

Too late for that now. I hate you. It'll be four years, this coming May, since you died. And not once have I been able to move forward with my life. Everything I do now will never be good enough for "you". No plan I will ever make will succeed. I don't know who I am. You brought me up to be your second incarnation. Everything I do is a reflection of your own habits. All the way down to the way I speak. Who am I! You've turned me into a monster.

Why can't I let you go? I can't become my own person. An identity is made through years of growing up and learning about yourself. I'm 22 years old and 19 of those years were spent becoming you. How do I create a new me? My own "me". The things I love, I do because you loved them. The things I hate, I hate because you did. I am you. You taught me everything. You made me who I am. Why the fuck did you die before you taught me how you live with yourself? Why the fuck did you die before you could show me how to succeed being you?

I'm a disappointment to everyone I know now. I'm an empty shell. I'm your second body, still moving, still "alive" even though your soul has moved on to Rest In Peace. What am I supposed to do? How do I stop the people around me from crying because they think I don't care about them? You - you who abandoned everyone who ever loved you. How could you do this to me?

I might have been a perfect "you", but you left me before that could happen. You abandoned me just before you're supposed to teach me the most important lesson to become successful as a monster. You left me. I understand now why you never had me take lessons for things I was always interested in when I was a child. You promised me piano lessons, but that never happened - because you never played the piano. That means there's no need for me to.

Even now as I taught myself to play it and other instruments, what I think is that I acquired new talent just for "You". I'm just a second version of you. I'm the same computer with updated software, with new programs. I don't want to be. I want to become my own person. I want to be my own identity. But doing so means starting over. The people around me no longer have the patience for that. Thanks to you!

Starting over means being a child again. It means rediscovering myself through my own five senses. It means throwing out the old computer and getting another one with a new, unfamiliar Operating System that I have to learn how to use. But there's no time for that. And no one around me has the patience. So I hope you're happy. I hope you're looking at me, where ever you are now (in Hell), and you're happy that it's too late for me to carve my own life.

I hope you're satisfied leaving me to live with the broken and incomplete pieces of your life. Thanks for forcing me to live a partial identity, a fraction of a life, for the rest of mine.

Your Devoted Son and Back-up,

Scott Marapao