I hate you, Father.
They said that our father is our first love, first hero, and the first man in our life. But why is my father my first heartbreak? He's the first man who hurt me, and he's also the only man who could hurt me so much like this.
Watching others my age happy with their fathers makes me cry out of envy. Watching them being spoiled and treated like daughters by their fathers makes me jealous. Watching those videos in my feed of fathers walking with their daughters at their graduation or other events triggers jealousy in me, and I can't help but ask, 'What did I do wrong to not experience those things?'
I never experienced those moments, not because my father was physically absent or because my parents were separated. My father is physically present, but emotionally? He’s not. He’s here, but I never experienced walking with my father—parents—on my graduation day or any important event in my life.
Instead of having those memories with my father, what I remember are moments where he reminded me that I have to do better. All I recall are times he shouted at me for minor inconveniences, how he almost raised his hand on me for petty reasons, and how he bragged about my achievements in public yet shamed me in private.
I remember nothing good about him aside from those memories. I can't even answer questions from my friends and others about my favorite bond with my father because how can I tell them that my relationship with my father is not as good as theirs? How can I tell them that most of my memories and bonds with my father involve watching him argue with my mother all the time, about him being mad at the simplest things, about him almost raising his hands at me, about him throwing things—sometimes at me—when he's mad?
How am I supposed to tell those things? My father is seen and recognized as an almost perfect husband, father, and person to everyone. Little do they know that behind his perfect smile in public is a monster.
Beneath his perfect image is a father who is verbally abusive, a father who's proficient at throwing words that aren't pleasant to hear—he has called me different names such as 'bobo' and 'malas.' He's just too perfectionist and self-centered to the point that he forgot that we are just his children—children who need a father to guide them growing up. Hearing unwholesome words from my father affected my growth in life and my mental health.
He's supposed to be the first man I love, yet he became the reason I dislike men. He's supposed to be the man who will protect me against everyone, yet he became the person I need protection from. He's the first man who should never hurt me, yet he's the first to break my heart into fragments.
No man could ever break me more than he did. The love I should give him has turned into anger. It turned into anger until it became hatred and rage. Seeing him smile at those people sends different negative emotions through my whole being. Just meeting him inside our house makes me anxious and always makes me angry. Sitting with him in places where he's seen as a perfect and respectable man makes me so uncomfortable that I no longer want to join any events that include our family.
As a daughter, there's a chance that I might forgive him for his shortcomings as a father and husband, but as a teenager? No. I will forever ask why he didn't treat me better. Why didn't he love me?
You became the person I hated the most. Father, I hate you.
