Please forgive me on how ďall over the placeĒ this is.
All my life I have but heads with my dad. I donít know why we donít get along. Maybe itís because Iím his step-son, and not his real son of blood. For some reason I have always felt that he viewed me as a disappointment, like a scientist feels towards a failed experiment.
My dad is a trucker; heís been driving semiís for almost 25 years now; shipping harvests from ohio-michigan, Michigan-Ohio, and even to Canada and back.
When I was 7 years old I was outside playing basketball, or at least trying to play basketball in his opinion. When I heard his truck pull up I just kept on playing.
Dad: What are you doing.
Me: Playing Basketball
Dad: You need to get inside you look like a nuisance.
I didnít know what a nuisance was at that time, but I find myself dwelling on
this particular part of my past from time to time.
He has only been proud of me once, but that was when I was in 7th grade getting straight Aís. It was so nice having his acceptance, he was finally proud of me. I fought past the sexist English teacher , and the math teacher that thought I was stupid.
Fast forward 8 years and here we are. I am 19, still living with my parents. Iím going to school to be a diesel mechanic and work on semi-trucks. Iíve been asking myself if this is what I really want to do with my life. The reasons that I wanted to go into this field were bad ones in my opinion. I wanted to make my dad proud, plus my close friend was going into the same program.
Over the summer I worked my furry ass off stacking hay all summer. I didnít have any of the ďsummer funĒ someone is supposed to have. My dad never said good job, he just barked orders at me, telling me what needs to get done before I go and have fun at work. He really thought I was screwing off at work. I wish he could have seen the sweat pouring off my body.
I want to be myself, why should I have to make someone proud of me that I donít even like. I attribute my shyness, awkwardness and bashfulness to my dick of a dad. He has always been disapproving of the things I did; his disapproving stare, him grabbing me and telling me to stay in one place; never telling me what I did wrong, only leaving me to question myself.
I say no more! I am sick of being treated like a slave in this place. Over the winter Iím going to find out who I am, and what I really want to do with my life. Iím going to explore, Iím going to live for the first time in my life. Iím not going to be afraid of my dad watching oh so judgingly over my shoulder. I am done living in the shadows. Here I come world!