The balding 49 year old man sits in front of the television.
In this manner, he emphasises his round globular form and I liken him to a toad.
I see the back of his head. His white scalp contrasted with his thin and thinning hair- dyed black in a desperate attempt to reaffirm the appearance of youth.
But a man like this is disillusioned.
Childish.
Selfish
Alone...
remarkably disillusioned.
His twenty year old daughter darts back and forth through the hall, catching glimpses of the old, fat child. She is making his dinner in the kitchen. On this particular evening, she doesn't bring him his food. On this particular evening, she does not wish to bring him a meal as he sits in front of a box, x-box controller in hand, headset strapped to his head- reaffirmations of youth.
How demeaning it feels, for this twenty year old daughter and writer, with a balding, 49 year old father, to bring him his dinner. To kneel down as he sits cross legged on the carpet. As he sits so close to the television...
he is not a father, he is child
and this twenty year old daughter feels like a mother...
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Apparently marriage is like that too Diana. You're a good daughter. x
ReplyDeleteI really lke the way that was written dee <3. You have a great writing voice hehe..you can tell i've been listening too much at uni.
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