If for 1 hour I didn’t loathe you and you didn’t devalue me

I wish I didn’t loathe you, Father, I wish we were not enemies. I wish we could sit together in a room, in two soft chairs, facing each other, perhaps with a cup of tea for each of us on the side table. I wish for 1 hour we were able to speak to each other as if we were not enemies, as if we have forgotten all our pains and sorrows and anger. If we could, I wish we would ask each other questions – questions that will be forever unanswered in reality, but in this special room, at this special hour, we would answer each other, and understand each other.

I would sit deep in the chair, with my right leg on top of my left, with my hands holding my chin, thoughtful. I would look you in the eye and I would ask you, without a hint of any feeling – what is it like being a master of all? What is it like feeling you can do as you wish, you can feel as you please, you can tell others what to do without ever considering whether or not they want to do it? What is it like standing in the house full of weak people and feeling as a supreme being? Walking in darkness and knowing that there are no monsters, that you are the scariest monster yourself and nothing can pose a threat to you? What is it like possessing another human being, small and fragile, your only effort taking her at will? I would look at you with admiration in my eyes, because such qualities call for it – and you would look back with pride. Your arms and hands would become animated, as you would describe me what it’ like – or maybe you won’t. Maybe you will laugh at my naivete, or get angry and violent, but you will contain yourself because this is my imaginary hour, and by its rues we don’t loathe each other for this long. I’d wonder, outloud, what must you feel when hurting your own child, when seeing tears in her eyes, when hearing her pleading with you – what kind of satisfaction does it get you? You’d roll your eyes and revel in my description, will you not? You’d feel maybe for the first time that we connect, that I can undestand your pleasure, that I don’t argue with you for my pity, but rather I am in awe. You’d describe to me what treaure it is to hold such power, what thurst you must have to quench it, at any cost, even at the cost of destroying your own family. You’d explain to me, perhaps, that family means nothing, that the only soul you care for is yours. You’d revel in your might, showing off in my eyes, until my time would be off and it would be your turn asking questions.

You’d hesitate, and perhaps you’d pause mid-sentence, and you’d ask me – what is it like being taken against your will? What’s it like to be punished and hurt and violated?  And we would be talking from two different places – me, listening to what you describe as something I would never experience in my life. You, listening to something both me and you have experienced in our lives, but you have since forgotten. You’d feel what I feel, but you’d be surprised at hearing me saying – it feels like being alive. It hurts, but it does feel like pain. It hurts, but it also gives me strength and power to overcome it. It hurts, but I know it won’t last as I make up my mind to stop it. It feels. And you’d realize you don’t feel anything any longer. You have to make others suffer to feel yourself. You have to inflict horrendous pain to feel even a fraction of it. I’d tell you what it’s like being scared of the dark, of the unknown, of death – and how it feels overcoming it. I’d tell you about feeling love – despite all the pain I have been through – and you’d wonder. You’d try to remember those moments when you too did feel love, but you wouldn’t be able to. You’ve forgotten, perhaps the only time you did feel something was when you were a child. I’d describe to you what love feels like and what it can do, how it can heal. You’d realize you have never know it, and maybe never will. Perhaps in that moment I will see admiration in your eyes, the awe in honor of something that you’d never know.

And it that moment you’d see that we really are two human beings, with the same goal for life – to be loved. You’d see that we are no different, that there are no supreme beings among us, that we all are in the same boat. On the quest for love. Perhaps there will be enough time for me to see this understanding in your eyes, before our hour will be up. And maybe in that moment I will stop loathing you, and will stop devaluing me, and we will become a family.

P.S.: This blog post was inspired by a short story "Fantasy Room", written by Adam-Troy Castro (as part of the original stories featuring the original vampire hunter - The Many Faces of Van Helsing). Photo credit - Carlos Porto / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Comments

[Patricia - Spiritual Journey Of A Lightworker]

I know your hurt. I know your hatred. I know your pain. I know your craving for love that you never got from your father. I am an incest survivor too. My dad was one of my molesters. My heart hurts for you and for me. Thank you for sharing this.