Daddy’s Girl

Self-confessed, 100%, nothing more could be used to describe me. Everyone knows it, it is blatantly obvious that I am a daddy’s girl.

That’s what I am, it’s how I feel I am. But the reality of it is that my mum is my dad’s girl. Without play my mini violin that I have sometimes placed on my back, this is something that even they cannot hide. Things that hurt my mum, anger my dad. He would fight the devil himself with his bare hands for my mum and he would win. Forever it has been known that my dad’s reactions to my brothers actions were not out of disappointment or anger, more out of worry that Zachary was ultimately break my mum’s heart.

He takes the backseat in almost everything, he used to say to Zachary: ‘You don’t need to contact me Son, but please ring your mum.’

As long as my mum is ok, so is my dad. He now hates leaving her and just wants her to stop crying, because if she fails, he fails and if they fail, I fail.

It’s a domino effect now. A wonky three legged bar stool.

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