I’m afraid… Of clowns. I mean look at those weird lookin’ fuckers. Why are you crying? Why are you smiling? Why the fuck are you angry? I’m afraid of a lot of things actually. Spiders, ants, snakes, rejection, being in a relationship, being single, my dad, my dad is a pretty scary person, sometimes when he got drunk he beat me. But don’t worry! Because he apologized in the morning! And I was always told apologies are only valuable if felt and I mean I could feel it deep down. Maybe it was just the aches my body cried out to me from the night before.
When I was younger, I wasn’t afraid. Because I mean if I was afraid that would somehow in my father’s eyes make me look weak and he would beat me and I remember overhearing several conversations he had with his hick motherfuckin sorry excuse of friends about how they only beat up faggots. I didn’t want to be a faggot and disappoint my dad because damn man, he is who I’m supposed to aspire to be when I’m older and I dealt with this from the time I was able to utter my first word and it’ll continue to haunt me until I speak. My. Last.
I wish someone had seen the signs and said “I’m here for you” but no one ever did so when I was seven I decided that I finally had had enough, I told my dad that he wasn’t a man. I don’t think I even finished the sentence before a beer bottle swung to connect with my pale, young face. That beer bottle broke and left a scar right here. He then stood over me and continued to beat me until I was sure I was going to die. But I said NO. Why?
It’s true, he broke me down but that didn’t mean I was broken. I couldn’t let him win this time. I picked my shattered teeth and broken bones off the ground though he continued his assault across my back and said YOU DONT CONTROL ME ANYMORE. I spent three days in intensive care. I can’t remember much. Only two things.
- Playing Donkey Kong on an old Nintendo 64 that a doctor brought in
and
2. My mom saying she would never let this happen again.
I haven’t seen my father in six years but he’s always going to be behind me. But that’s where he belongs. Behind me, in my past. He made me one thing I’m proud of today. A survivor. He showed me just how strong I can be.
I wish I had more to say but really these same four words flash in my mind. I’m here for you. Every single one of you.
Jakob's Poetry 