“He didn’t make the greatest first impression”

My father doesn’t dislike you because your good. My father dislike you because you hurt me. Way back when I was sophomore still writing your name inside in the cover of my English book. In February after we first meet and I thought maybe you ask me to the junior prom.

My mom was already eyeing dresses and trying out different kinds of braids in my hair. But she was on a trip to manila that weekend. It was just me and my dad and he sat on the living room with the newspaper while I was washing dishes in the kitchen. On the phone with your friend, who later argue was never be your friend,, who told me ‘m only telling you this for your own good, but than told a bunch of us that he thought that you are too fat to take to the prom. And that’s when I blend over, holding on the edge of the kitchen sink, it hurt that badly and my father came running in convinced I had cut my self on a steak knife or shattered a glass in my hand. And I couldn’t breathe enough to b to explain so he keep prying my hand from belly, checking my palms and my shirt for blood. I’m sure he wished only for one of my big sister to glide in, but it was just my dad and me that night and he did the best he could. After I feel asleep doing set up on my family room, it didn’t matter that you swore you never said it, that instead of buying anyone a corsage, you hid at your parents beach house, buying empty bottles in the sand. My dad couldn’t have known that morning he had to look ay my naked body in the tub and anyway he couldn’t have cared. By March, my spine was outlined in bruises. On the back nothing to stop those bones from rubbing against my skin who else could blame for what I had done to my self? Your just a polite voice on the telephone., always calling during supper. It was my father little girl.