inked father

Heres to the girls who’s hearts were broken by a man long before any boy got ahold of it.
Heres to the girls who believe that they can’t be loved because the one man who was supposed to always love them didn’t.
Heres to the girls who can’t stay in a relationship because all they were ever taught was how to leave one.
Heres to the girls who are in an abusive relationship and don’t know it because it’s what they grew up seeing.
Heres to the girls who can’t trust men because the man they were supposed to always be able to count on left.
Heres to the girls who are scared to have kids because they never want their kids to face the same pain they had to endure.
Heres to the girls who refuse to say they have a dad because all their father ever was is a man who helped create them.
—  You’re not my dad, you’re just the man who helped create me// 4am
If you hurt her, I will not break you, or hurt you, or injure you. I won’t even need to get involved. Because I raised my daughter to be independent and skilled enough to break you for herself, and her way is a lot more painful than anything I could even dream of. She may share her mother’s mind and my heart, but everything about her is individually, confidently, completely her own and that is a very dangerous combination to mess with. I raised my girl to be a wolf so she can deal with predators, not a flower to be admired, then trampled upon. Remember that.
—  My Feminist Dad to my Decidedly Not Feminist Ex | Nikita Gill
l o v e ?

It is the smile from your brother after bringing him home his favorite doughnut.

It is coming home with your dog pulling off your socks and licking your cheeks.

It is your father telling an endless story of how he courted your mother with all the distance, time and challenges they went through.

It is the artist in the exhibit having a full heart with all the appreciations he receives.

It is the long drives and good music that accompanies your soul to feel again.

It is your grandfather playing grandmother’s favorite old song in guitar after a long time. He is somehow reliving all the slow dances and I love you’s they had when she was still breathing.

It is the big big smile on your mother when she saw you passed that audition. She is the happiest person everytime you accomplish every dream you have.

It is the children flying kite four in the afternoon, regardless of all the chaos.

It is seeing your favorite people on earth and feeling home once again.

It is her loving and letting go of him. Because she knows love is selfless and she’ll do it in a million possible ways even if it breaks her.

It is having an alone time, musing the silence, the world itself.

It is you, loving the little things in life. Afterall, life is just life that needs to be lived.

-her (MIS)

My childhood innocence was stripped when I was about 3, my dad was driving drunk with me in the car and some guy cut him off. So he proceeded to chase him down. Then the guy got out of his car and grabbed a crowbar. I would wake up from naps and my dad was nowhere to be found. Throughout the years I watched him fall down stairs and stumble around. I was terrified. He would come and leave and I would see my mom cry every time. I watched him and my mom scream at each other why I sat on the porch covering my ears. My brother asked me when I was 6 “do you wanna see your dad get beat with a club?” Id go to school and get no relief because I was picked on day after day. I truly believe the trauma of your childhood melds you into someone different. I often wonder what I would have been like if it hadn’t happened. Would I not be a shy, anxiety ridden depressed person? Or would I be exactly the same? I don’t think children should have to have an adult mind and issues. Because then you have all this baggage that weighs you down all the time. It’s always there in your mind. I think people think that children don’t catch on to things or wont remember. But that’s the farthest from the truth. They are so observant. It strips their childhood away from them. And puts them in a position to deal with things that they should have no business having to deal with. If adults have a hard time dealing with it, how do you think it is for children?
—  Chapters from my life

a fathers hand

as a tear began to stream
down my little face
he said ‘come sit awhile’
there was a humble strength
that hid behind his smile
i quickly learned it was
within his embrace
i felt most safe
lost in the moment
i decided to sneak
a butterfly kiss
upon his cheek
i recall the balminess
of freshly shaven skin
and in his hand
my tiny fingers fell within
and with the other
he tucked the unruly curls
behind the ears
of his entire world
then pressed his lips
gently upon my frown
without a single word
he calmed me down
in that moment
with nothing more than
the loving touch
of a fathers hand

Brie

This was written in honour of the first man in my life. Missing him never gets easier.

I knew, from the moment you were born, I’m going to love you forever.

You’re not going to be easy and that shows as you unfurl. I would have a hard time forcing myself to understand how stubborn you will be. But I knew, when I first saw your face, no one else in this world would be as beautiful as you. The moment you first opened your eyes, I have to accept that I was bound to protect you and love you unconditionally. No matter how disappointing or how crazy you can be. No matter how stupid the decisions you might want to make. I would be patient enough to still pick you up when you are all broken and not functioning well.

And you won’t have a choice but to take all the love I can give you. Even I sometimes have the tendency to be controlling and I may curtail some of your independence. So forgive for I won’t stop shielding you from the pain. Because sweetheart, this world can be so cruel and I will be infront of you, catching bullets and crashing waves, just to keep you safe.

And by loving you, we will disagree about a lot if things. But always remember that my fuel might be empty one day, I will always find a way to light your path and guide you. Look up to the stars, if the day will come that I won’t be visible on your side— I will never leave you and you will never be alone. I will be constant. In the wind. In the stars. In the dust sitting on your front porch.

The world might scare you a lot in your lifetime. People will come and hurt you. Some will come to aid you. Keep your fire burning. Keep your torch lit. On the day that you were born, I felt it on my heart that you will be a blessing. You might not be all good and perfect but you are bound to do something significant and beautiful.

I love you so much—
This is from a guy that will never get your heart broken and won’t fail to love you everyday;

Til the day I die.
Even if I die.

—  A LETTER FROM A FATHER TO HIS DAUGHTER
he never stops yelling.
his words stay with me even when
he’s not here, haunting
my every step.
he keeps threatening to leave and
i wish he would, maybe then his voice
might finally leave me be.
 
249 days.
249 days until i’m out of this house,
away from this life.
away from him.
—  ((about a father who never stops yelling.))

If someone asks me what my favorite childhood memory is, I’d probably say when my dad used to make me sit on his shoulders so I could see everything from above. It’s nothing any daughter wouldn’t have experienced, but I can still remember dad’s eyes glowing with pride looking up at me laughing. I remember it as if it happened yesterday. I can still hear our laughter if I try hard, I can still feel the wind in my long brown hair and the sun kissing my skin. I know I don’t remember my childhood, things that you would want me to remember just because they were so special to you. I remember mom telling me how you’d take me upstairs on the roof and sing me to sleep. Every night, you sung the same song. I wish I could remember how it felt, falling asleep to your beautiful voice. I really wish I did. But I can recite that particular song in a heartbeat, even though I never understood the meaning behind the lyrics just because you sung it to me so much. I don’t know when or how I started picking up the lyrics and singing along, but that song will always hold a special place in my heart. Just like you do.


So, where did everything go wrong, dad? How did we end up here? You used to be my rock, a shoulder to cry on, my support system. When did you become one of the reasons I can’t sleep at night because the tears won’t stop spilling? I remember how you used to come to me at night when I fought with mom and was crying silently. Somehow you always knew, even though I’d try my best to not make a sound. I remember how you used to pat me on my head and sing me to sleep. I still remember those car rides, when you used to drive me to the other side of the city, amidst the heavy traffic and unrelenting heat, just to buy me my favorite cupcakes. I still remember laughing at that one song that would always be played on the radio every time you drove me to my classes, and how you’d explain the meaning behind the lyrics. I still remember how your face glowed with pride when my 10th grade results came out. I remember, dad. I still remember.


So where did all that go? The laughter, the conversations that were only ours to keep, and how I’d constantly annoy you will my antics. Where did that vanish?


I’ve tried so hard to make you proud, dad; so hard that I started basing my existence on it. Would you blame me? I’m just a little kid trying to make her dad proud. That’s all I ever wanted.


So did your expectations surpass your love for me? I know I failed, dad, I failed you. Now I’m the reason you’re hurting. I’m the reason I’m hurting because my eyes can’t meet yours. I’m the reason for the tears in your eyes, and believe me when I say those tears haunt me.


I wanted to make you proud, dad. And I failed. And you don’t see how much I wish I could take all of it back. If I could go back in time and make things right, I would. But I can’t.


Now I’ll have to live with it. Maybe that’s the right punishment for me. Maybe I deserve it. Maybe I deserve crying myself to sleep every night and not having you patting my head and singing me to sleep.

—  things i wish i could tell you, dad
You don’t have to be in a church to experience the Holy Spirit.
He can flood our souls like an all-consuming Fire in the midst of a joyful congregation,
but He is also in the quietest rooms where tears rest on pillowcases
and with His all-powerful yet delicate voice, He whispers comfort to every beat of the heart.
Do not let your sons forget where their essence was just formed, when their bodies were most vulnerable, they were protected by the womb of a woman. If they ever call all women weak, remind them of the strength of their mother who pulled her whole body apart to give theirs a home.
—  Nikita Gill, Fathers Do Not Let Your Sons Forget