He’s getting married while I’m stuck in a time loop, reliving every age between six and thirty.

He’s getting married while I’m over here drinking a warm, bitter cup of resentment – spiced with cinnamon- poison sugar and topped with traumatized whipped cream. Because at the end of the day, he did what he could, right? The bare fucking minimum, dressed to the nines and paraded as Dad of the Year.

He’s getting married while I’m wishing my birth mom swallowed.

My father is getting married today. Happily married. And I’m over here – a kid in his eyes, stuck in the corner, pining for love and attention I’ll never get, because he’ll give it all to someone else.

I am six. I am thirty. I am stuck. Left in the corner, trapped in a loop. And even though he’s the one who broke me, I’m the one with the problem. And I’ll have to fix myself without him.