House

I grew up in a full house, as one of my favorite shows, only mine was much fuller. There was:

Both Grandparents Mother's side

Parents

Sister

Two uncles

Aunt

And a Cousin.

And myself.

My dad wasn't very much liked at all by my mother's family, there was always a great dislike towards him. One thing they didn't like was that he was to hard on me, when I was about 6 he would leave me alone in a room, and make me write down vowels in a small booklet and I wouldn't be able to leave till I was finished.

I'll admit I was scared of my dad, not so much today but back then I really was. I wasn't scared when he was gonna hit me or his facial expressions.

I was afraid of his voice.

It was so beastly, thick and quick when he would yell at me, I remember how hard my heart would pound in my chest. He wasn't very patient, and he hated the fact that I wasn't loud like him. If he would ask me something and I answered to soft the would yell at me.

Yet, I don't know why I loved my dad so much, even though he would yell, later on he would be nice. He was like my hero. He taught me how to skate, he would take me to the park, he would play catch with me.

I loved him more then my mom.

So much that he thinks I don't remember but I do. I remember when he told me to throw a shoe at her when she was pregnant with my sister.

He leaned in close to my ear,

"Get that shoe, and throw it at her," he whispered.

I did it. I don't know why, but I listened to him and I did, after there was my mom crying and yelling at him that why was he using me for things like that.

And I wonder, why did he want me to do it?

I never completely understood my dad when I was younger, I always wondered, what were his motives?

Why did he dislike my mother at times so much?

Why did he leave us out in the street?

Why did he hate it when we cried?

Why did he yell at me for crying in titanic?

He was rough, and sometimes could be the cruelest human being. But I always obeyed him, out of fear, out of love? Respect? Either way I did it.

But now, things have changed, and I see him for what he really is and really was. And I will not let any of it escape me.

And I tell him and ask him, but now I don't care if he yells, if he gets angry, if he says I mean nothing, if he says I'm whatever.

I don't care.

Just like he doesn't care.

But I ask,

Why did he stop caring?