a lesson in running away (the art of returning)

Dear Cassius:

Dad,

I don't hate you.

Is that what you want to hear?

You hate lies. I'm being helpful and giving you another disappointment to add to your list. Or whatever you're always telling me.

Let me count the times I've made you proud on my fingers. I have too many fingers to count all four of them.

Yeah. I kept track.

I'll keep this letter plain and simple, polished so bright it hurts, sharp as a dull tack and twice as painful. That's how you like things, after all. That's how you tried to make me, took my face and mind like clay in your hands and molded me into what you wanted.

Only you set me all wrong. I'm warped, dad. Cracked. Damaged. Is that what you want to hear?

Of course it isn't. You don't admit to your mistakes. You don't admit to me.

So, the times I've made you proud.

One of them was when I told you I was friends with Fitz. You remember what you called him? You should. I have your photographic memory. You called him an advantage. Like I love him for politics, for status. You told me we could use this. And I asked what that meant, and you told me that I wouldn't understand, even though it was my best friend and my life.

The second time was when I manifested. I was an empath, just like you, and you don't even know how sick that made me. How sick it makes me now, like I'm on a path that leads to becoming you. The day I manifested, I cried all day at school because of the overwhelming emotions and then I came home and you were so proud that I went upstairs and cried some more. I don't know how you didn't hear me. I guess you weren't listening.

Number three was when you met Sophie. Notice how all of these so far haven't been about me, or anything I did myself? All uncontrollable, things of chance, people besides me. Anyways, you met Sophie. At least you're glad I'm making friends. More friends besides him.

The last time was when I helped Linh and Sophie save Atlantis. You thought I was a hero. Not that you told me—no, that would be too far. But I felt it. And the thing was, I barely did anything. I calmed them down. But Sophie gave us the power and Linh did the whole thing and, god, can't you ever be proud of me for something I'm proud of myself for doing?

Like when I came back. I hated myself for leaving but— shit, I came back. Can't that ever be worth something?

At least tell me you hate me, okay? That's all I want. Just to get it over with. Tell me I'm a burden. Tell me you regret me. Tell me you'd rather you were a bad match than deal with me. I can take it. Let me tell you how much I agree.

This letter is turning out longer than I wanted it to.

I wanted to say something assertive. I wanted to take back control and say something like "I'm my own person" or "I make my own choices, and you can't change that" but instead, here I am. Begging for your approval. As always.

This letter is turning out longer than I wanted it to because there's so damn much to say to you.

I wanted you to hate me so it would make up for me loving you.

And didn't it work?

I'm done writing. I need to be done writing. Hate me all you want.

Shit, Dad. Prove me fucking wrong.