Dark Betrayal

A father's love for a son is sacred. Yet why do men defile the sanctity of this bond? My father is just a man, at 19 I know that now. But in my eyes he was so much more. He was everything I wanted to be, he was everything I looked up to. So tell me now, as I sit alone in my dark room on a cold Sunday night, who was it who destroyed our bond as father and son? Him by coming into my room at 3 in the morning four years ago, or me for being so weak? I feel betrayed by my own father. How melodramatic and uncharacteristic of me. No one betrays me, because who have I ever trusted enough to be able to hurt me so badly? Still that sentence hangs in the air as I whisper it out loud. I feel betrayed by my own father. I use humour and twist the truth to hide the fact that I always cried after he left the room. I have....things in my head that need to be sorted out, and tonight this is one of them. My father has left a deep wound in my heart, and I don't know if I can ever be whole again. For once, I want to open up and talk to someone about the burdens that I carry alone, but I know that come morning the illusions will ripple back into place and I'll go back to pretending that everything is as it should be. But for tonight...let me cry for the man my father is. Let me dream about the good times I had with my father as a son, when we went out to catch a late night movie, when he came roaring down the street at 1 in the morning when I left my other dad's house in tears. I still love you, dad. Even if I've lost you as a father because of the choices you made and my inability to refuse you, I will always love you. The tears are a river of endless regrets, and suddenly I want very much to be young and in my father's arms again, to feel the warmth and comfort and security that only a dad can give.
A father's love is pure. Or at least, it should be.