I’ve habitually granted you permission to handle my existence with disregard.
“He is who he is” is the bullshit I was fed from not only your family, but also mine.
Nonchalantly, it grew easier for me to shrug off the hurt and the hate;
Learning to accept you for who you are, has been my toughest challenge and greatest mistake.
And though, the minimal efforts you’d impulsively made to perform acts of unselfishness won’t go unmentioned; every action had an ulterior motive, and no one seemed to be off limits.
“HURT PEOPLE, HURT PEOPLE”
I never had to question if you truly loved me, because I know.
And I don’t acquire the blame, because there is none.
I’ll admit, I allowed others to play your role, unapologetically.
Their love and attention consoled me and molded me while you abandoned me.
Emotions from both my successes and failures were gratefully met with the open arms and listening ears of men who “had time”
No longer will I reflect on neglected encounters or squandered opportunities.
It’s your loss, not mine.