It has arrived

I hope you are sitting, enjoying the bacon your little girl has made for you as you are playing with your new maintenance tool. Or, that’s what I think happens, seeing as you haven’t existed in my life the past 18 years. The day is here, it has arrived, and I can’t go outside. I don’t want to see all the people that are celebrating their fathers, passed away or alive, when mine left me growing up with a receipt and a donor number. The day is here, is has arrived, where you will be thinking how great your life is, when you have a daughter that has always wondered who you even look like. The day, where all she can think about is herself when she doesn’t want to, just because she is sitting alone in her room. She’s wondering why you wanted to be anonymous, what nationality she is, what health problems she could have, who she really is… the day is here, it has arrived… and every donor child feels like shit because of a decision maybe a college boy made just to get money. Thank you, for the life I live now… but thank you for making me imaginative. Creative. I can walk through the world building who you are in my mind. Who you could be. I hate you, but I can’t say that without saying I love you too.
this day has come, it has arrived… and I guess all I can say is… I hope you know the choices you made… and happy Fathers Day…