Hard to Speak.

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It’ s hard to look at someone and tell them something very important about you. The thing that makes you, you. The event or the situation that made you realize that the world is not a safe place, that people are not always nice to you, that people are selfish and they only want things for themselves without the consideration of others.

Now this is even hard to tell someone who cares the most about you. For example my father. And telling my father what has happened to me, did not occur in the way that I expected it to occur.

I just came back home for the weekend, and somehow I was driving us both back home, him from work and me from dinner with friends. And the conversation we were having slowly guided into what happened to me. He ask for details, and descriptions, which I was struggling to give up. Muffled nods and yeas were all I can say. Although I did go into how I’m letting him know now because I’m grown up, I realize what happened, how I feel about it. I have pretty much summed up the situation with no doubt about what happened and I have accepted it.

The car ride became a long one when we were on the street where our house was, but we kept driving around the area talking still, until my father said to drive on the highway until another city so we can go to a casino. Yes, I know, not the typical answer to a situation. But after all the talking and tears (on both ends) and hand holding and hugging I thought it was well deserved. He did give me a warning not to tell my mom, which I already knew was given.

After the casino winning $5 more than I spent, and my dad losing his $40 that he played, we called it a very late night of 3am. We sneaked back home without waking my mother and called it a night. I don’t know what is going to happen tomorrow but for today I know that me and my father bonded.

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