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Your Autobiographies
Deanna Knight's Autobiography (submitted 5/17/06)
DADDY, FATHER
Me. Walking down the urine-stained streets smells intoxicating, vibrant beats bumping and almost bursting the expensive speakers with sounds of Dru Hill repeating in the depths of my mind.
You. With smells so horrid I'd rather smell the street, as I realize who you are. "Daddy?" I whisper, my voice trembling with tear-stained eyes. All the while wishing I wouldn't have turned the corner, or even have left the house.
Us. An us there can never be. Seeing you like that has made up my mind, they should've called it a crime for someone to end up like you. What hurts the most is that you're probably not even dead, most likely alive inside, yet, you'll never change. There can never be an us as long as you are this way. What hurts all the while is that no matter what, whether I like it or not, you will always be my dad. Too bad. It takes a real man to be a father. You don't deserve that title.