I never assumed this would be easy, but I couldn’t imagine it would be so hard. I know I shouldn’t say I miss you because that isn’t fair. But I do. I do miss you. I do love you. You’re still Aus, and although I presume you haven’t done much of it lately, I picture your smile when I lay alone in bed. Is that wrong? Maybe I should imagine your scowl instead because I assume that’s the face you pull when you think of me now.
There’s so much I should say because you deserve better than silence, but I fear if you know it’ll only make matters worse. We all have secrets, but I have too many. Too many dark ones. Too many impossible ones. I do want you to know that I have fewer secrets from you than anyone else on this planet. I appreciate this more than ever before, and I realise how lonely my existence is without you.
That’s all I do anymore…exist.
I keep thinking about him, and you, and the kind of father you’ll one day be. Knowing I can only manage existence when he’s so close to existing, pains me. You will be a wonderful father one day, Aus, I promise you. I wanted you to be his father, and each day I cry because I still want you to be. But they’re lost tears, silly and foolish ones. Maybe in another life. Maybe if things were different before I met you. Maybe if we could turn back time somehow… But we can’t, and it pains me.
I’m fed up with life and its cruel ways, as you’d be the perfect father to him. You’d love him and treasure him, and grow with him, like good men do. I know what it’s like to grow up without a father, and I hate how he needs to go through this, too. But he has to, because I also know what it’s like to have a terrible one, so if he can’t have you, he can’t have anyone.
If you knew what I went through you’d understand. I need to protect him, because no matter what happens I cannot turn out like my mother and obsess over a man so ill-prepared for love and living. If you knew, you’d understand; I’m certain you would, because you’re a good man; a loving one; a genuine one; a one-of-a-kind one.
These damn secrets drag me down. I should have told you more and let you in, I know that now. I should have told you about my father, and how he didn’t die when I was too young to remember. I do remember. For years, he was all I could remember. I spent so long forgetting him, but now he’s back. Every time I think about you or him, he’s there.
I don’t think he’s ever truly left me. Every time I see a father hold a little girl’s hand, I ask myself, ‘Does she love her daddy, or does she despise him? Does she fear him? Does she wonder what she did wrong? Does she cry herself to sleep because she must be broken and worthless, because why else would he hurt her?’
I nearly told you about him once, when you played that one song your dad taught you. We sat on your bed as you lost yourself in the guitar’s strings, and I lost myself in you. I let go of the barriers keeping me upright, and from nowhere I began whispering, stuttering and preparing the whole story. I should have told you then, but I couldn’t because I was scared. I still am scared. I’m scared to let him out and back into the open, and I know you deserve more, but I can’t…
You deserve to know he was a bad man, and that you’re nothing like him. That little boy resting inside me will never have a man like him, either. I’ll never let a man like him hurt me ever again, and if you knew, I’m sure you’d understand. I love you and miss you, but try and believe me when I say that me leaving is for the best.
I never meant to hurt you, and I’m not sure how I ended up doing so. But I did. I know that now.