Another one bites the dust.

Little voice in my head says:

‘Sometimes, the point don’t really matter, just like a homeless guy dying at the side of the road.’

Here’s another post, signifying the further breakdown of our relationship, Dad.

I realized, since a very long time ago, no matter how much you try to hide or deny it, that you were disappointed that I didn’t turn out to be the son you always wanted.

I remember your disappointment when I told you, not too long ago, that I was very undecided about my future. What I wanted to pursue, and what I wanted to be. I wanted time to discover myself, but no, you wanted to pave a clear cut path for me, as soon as possible. I appreciate that, but you can’t rush things sometimes.

I remember your disappointment with my below-average grades in high school. You thought you hid it well, with your ‘motivational’ talks to me about how its OK and I can redeem myself next time. I saw through you Dad, you’re so easy to read. And at that time, I regretted, and told myself I would try to be the son you wanted.

And I did try. But it wasn’t good enough…like always.

I remember presenting you my report card in college. I was very pleased with myself, with that 76% average. It may not be a top grade, but I was proud, because I knew for once, I put my effort into my studies. Compared to the failing grades I achieved before, you had no idea how happy I was to see that 76%. But you scorned at it. You scorned at my effort. You proceeded to lecture me on how bleak my future looked, that no universities would take me, just because I didn’t score an 80% and above. The way you put me down Dad, you have no idea how it hurts inside.

Then there’s the trust issue.

I know,back in my younger days, I was a chronic liar. I lost your trust. But as I grew older, I sought to redeem myself in your eyes. But no, I’m always this immature, lying 12-year old kid. You never trusted my judgment, you never believed in my decisions, and worst of all, you never take my word for it. How can you expect me to call you ‘Dad’ when we both know there isn’t any trust between us?

Of course, for once, I proved you wrong. I got accepted into Universities. Yes, plural. Two, by far, and more will be coming, I am sure. I was so…elated, euphoric, ecstatic when I got that acceptance letter from Victoria University. I remember so well, I, bursting into your room, with a big smile on my face and shouted : ‘I GOT ACCEPTED INTO VICTORIA U!’

You glanced at me, gave me a weak smile, nodded, and continued watching your television…

You could’ve said something Dad. A ‘Good job’ or ‘Congratulations’ would have sufficed. But no. Once again, without realizing it, you have indirectly showed your displeasure with where I am now. I remember forcing that horrible smile, so fake, plastered on my face as I walked out of your room so quick, determined to hide the tears that were threatening to fall. I’m sorry that I couldn’t make it to the big Uni’s in UK or US. Then again, sorry will never be good enough.

I know, the times you tell me that you’re proud to have a son like me. There might be a grain of truth to that, but I’ve always known all along Dad, that you expected more out of me.

Maybe, all I wanted was for you to acknowledge who I am. I’m someone who excels better beyond books and grades. I’m someone who is…more verbally expressive. I’m not a grade A+ student. I know who I am Dad, and I as sure hell know my limits. I know that I’m ME.

Again, sorry for not being who you wanted me to be.

But I’m not sorry for who I am today.