The boy I call my father...

I don't know why, but I have no connection with my Father. He's distant to me - a nobody. Just someone I share a house with. (I can't wait to move out). It's like he's never had any interest in my life and I don't think he ever will, unless I come into a large amount of money and he wishes to purchase the latest Aston Martin. It's almost as if he didn't really want me, like a Dad who wanted a boy and got a girl. I don't really want him to hate me; when I was younger we were close and he was my friend, but as soon as I turned about 10 he just lost interest. It's always seemed that he expected me to turn into this crazy, uncontrollable, hormonal teenager and to be fair, I am at times, but not to the scale he was preparing for. I prefer to hold it in and unleash it all on a close friend who's willing to listen.

I don't want to come across as big headed but I've always thought he was jealous. Jealous of the fact that I am smarter than him, or that I was born into a generation of freedom and one which can express their views without being beaten or cursed at. He never was the brightest in the bunch and yeah, he's good at maths and carving things out of wood, but that's his limit in reality. He just won't accept that a teenage girl can out-speak him or demoralise him. My Father doesn't realise that, on most occasions, I am right and I know it. He also fails to see how hypocritical and judgmental he is: how he is stuck in his own ways and no-one can say a word against his views without being criticised about it.

I know my Mother can see it too. We have a bitching session about him more often than not and we agree on how we view him. I think that I don't see him as a Father is because he's never grown up. In my eyes, he's a boy because he's afraid: afraid of reality; afraid of who I am; afraid of what I've become. This is something which makes me less scared of him. I've not as yet had the courage to say everything I don't feel for him, but that's only because I am grateful of what he has provided me with over the years.

It may seem harsh but if my Mother left him I wouldn't cry. I'd encourage her, I wouldn't blink an eye because to me he's just someone I have to call my Father due to political correctness. Genetically he made me, but it's every other man who was in my life I have to thank because he showed me nothing of what a Father should be.