BROKEN FAMILY

His over the years, had become a heart incapable of crying, the wells having dried over, now filled with bitterness and hurt, for such a man, trust is never a thing to consider, the same goes for love or anything warm for that matter. I remember the very day that changed him to this unfeeling and cold being, it’d been 6 years since my mother walked out on us, apparently we hadn’t been that great family she had always dreamt of as a girl, my father not as rich as she wished him to be nor I child she only wished for her imaginations alone. So she left, something more important she had to get. This betrayal left my father at his knees, tore him apart and brought him down to a man who’d just lost his ego. The months that followed he felt so weak and saw himself such a failure, one who couldn’t sustain a woman, let alone a child good enough for a mother to try and fight for when she wanted to leave, so he hated and shunned me, but not more than he could himself. But like an eagle in its darkest moments, he rose from those shackles that had had him feeling so feeble, created an empire and signed his name upon it. I wanted to believe that he worked harder for our sake and for hope of a better future, but every time I looked into his eyes I could taste the spite he angrily held within him, that yearn for a time when he would be finally able to spit on my mother’s face or grave, it wouldn’t have mattered. He still loved her, but not that pure kind, no, she had soiled that long ago…

It was that hateful love, you know they say love is the strongest of them all, plant the wrong seed in it and you’d create an evil so dreadful it would destroy a man. And it did my father, he always had that murderous look whenever he looked at me, I swear if a look could kill, then I’d long been erased. My father never talked to me, I actually couldn’t remember anytime he even said hello. I heard, families aren’t always as strong as you’d imagine, they’re like a fortress, but one built with cards with a marsh for a foundation, so easily blown away, so very easy to corrupt, but even much tougher to heal once a wound is inflicted.
Mine was a broken family, actually, I’d easily compare it to a very strong and dried up tree with only one healthy branch that couldn’t yield fruit. I find myself succumbing to the dangers of the world for comfort, abusing my father’s wealth like a spoilt brat, after all, he expects no less of me. My education never seemed important, but I crash it anyway, just so I could get some sort of acknowledgement from an angle, but never once have I found it fulfilling.
I suppose, not every rich man has a full heart or life, and maybe not every broken thing is for fixing.
But I’ll keep smiling, after all…it fits well with my father’s legacy.