"You can be anything you want" she said the day I left, a little encouragment for the journey
I was about to embark on. At least, that's what she thought she said, what I heard wasn't nearly
as good as that, what I heard was neither a wish for luck or an advice for the future, it was
an insult thrown on the pile of abuse I had already lived through.
Father was just a bag of nothing, lying there, sating his thirst with fluids of questionable
origin. We didn't talk, whenever we exchanged words it wasn't a conversation, it was him shouting
and me crying, I was nothing to him and I would stay nothing, just a pile of animated garbage,
ready to be thrown out at any moment, he made that very clear every single day.
So when I was old enough, I decided to leave, I took nothing with me besides a black garbage bag,
fitting don't you think, garbage throwing itself out, taking a bag with him to clean itself up,
the irony could've been considered comedy, but it wasn't that that caused the smile on my face,
it was the contents of the bag that left me content.
I stopped next to the river, watching the mucky waters flow, I turned my head and saw the trail
of red specks behind me, like a memento for my path. I threw the bag as far into the waters as I
could, the water splashed and then coloured red, I smiled and whispered to myself,
"Who's the garbage now... dad."