jaylar
3
it was different with my Father. When I was with him he watched my every minute as if I were a baby. I didn’t like it but it was better than being non-existent.
From the moment I arrived until I left he hovered. What did I want to eat? What did I want to do? I only had privacy in the bathroom for he kept watching me as if he were a prison guard.
Well, a lovable teddy bear of a prison guard.
He was so easy to play.
In one way, I can whisper that I did like being the centre of his world, but on the other, I didn’t like the over attention, the feeling of being under supervision.
As it only happened twice a month and was the day to the night I was with my mother, I survived.
