His smell reminds me of my dad Stale cigarettes cover every thread of fabric and polyester coating him
It disgusts me still, takes me back to the days as a child while he holds the fag between his fingers with one hand on the steering wheel.
“I don’t want this life for you”
ironic really the killing thing that he gives power to daily, occasionally and on breaks. And I’m just sitting in the passenger seat, 13 and green.
But he’s just putting onto me the pressures he faces, still a man whose got a lot to prove. Thinks he has to prove. Hoping I don’t fall from grace, try not to embarrass him. My mother the rough kind of love, that smooths you and blisters til you bleed. But I heal every time, a thicker layer of skin. You can’t imagine. How conflicted I am, it’s a constant fight between the good self and the bad. I pray to keep those devilish thoughts away, thoughts that keep me away.
It was hard you know being of ethnic skin and living in a white area where ignorance is their mind set. Always having those stereotypes and never living up to them, but being all that I can.