"Hello, failure."
For me to be affected by Bobby's drug issue is in itself to be questioned. Why the strong response toward him? Because he is me. It is said often one person hates another because he see's himself in that other person. Bobby is the mirror of what I may become: drug addicted,uncaring, leeching off the lives of others, not able to stand on his own two feet. As I write this, I have never been employed, I am uneducated and foresee a life of solitary misery. For someone in my position to point out the deficiencies in another person is admittedly a giant hypocrisy. But still I do feel. Like a tea kettle, my pressure rises and these words are but a release. I do try and tread lightly on the hypocrisy that I walk on, a tight rope, no doubt. But I do feel. This blog permits me to release what keeps me bothered, uncensored. You are free to ignore it or read on.
Bobby was leaving and dad told him that if he had nothing to do tomorrow, he could drop by and help him wash the boat. Nothing to do tomorrow? Bobby hasn't been doing anything for what seems like years now. For Bobby to drop by, do a few chores and believe that he has filled his quota for responsibility in life is something I have an issue with. Going on a beer-run does not put food on your family's table. Nor does it excuse you from an addiction you cannot afford. For all the time spent here, he could be looking for a job. Instead, he is awarded with a fishing trip. Instead, he pats himself on the back washing dishes in another home when his own kitchen sink is full with last night's dinner.
I told dad right then and there that I will help him wash the boat tomorrow. That's what I am here for. It wasn't necessary for Bobby to be here and I didn't want to give him the opportunity to displease me for 4 consecutive days, something critically turning into a possible routine. Dad said he doesn't know what to say about my offer for help. Bobby left.
The debate began.
To debate with a drunken father is a circus act. Considering dad's inebriated habits, a merry-go-round is involved. He repeats himself on subjects already discussed. 3 times. 5 times. 10. Dad defends himself and says he's caring for his brother. I tell him otherwise. I tell him he's holding his hand. He's letting him be. To care for someone and to leave them as they are are two different things. It isn't help he's giving. For all the wrongs Bobby stands for, he gets a pat on the head. He gets to go fish on a boat on the bay. Dad brings up Bobby's past accomplishments. I ask dad if great deeds in the past excuses a man from his present faults. "No," he agrees, "but I'm helping him." The merry-go-round.
Twice he left the debate. Twice I stood my ground. I tell him of addiction. He does not want to see it. He refuses to acknowledge that drugs played any role in how Bobby is now. He wants proof. I give him proof - how he has affected others. I don't have to see Bobby inhale what he lovingly refers to as "bato." As I have eyes, I have seen. With my ears, I have heard. I tell him of a family, I tell him of a son, I tell him of a home. Dad - in his drunken reasoning - asks why I bring other people's issues into his house. Why should he care how other people have been affected? All I did was give him proof. No man with any sense of clarity could consciously bring such hardship on his own family, a man who previously was a provider, a man who was once a father.
Dad does ask why must I be so loud? Why must I make it into a problem? As depressed as I am, I have my own issues to tackle. Bobby is a mirror. You put that mirror in my way and my problems are multiplied, shining back at me how much of a fuck-up I really am. Except I can't point towards a drug. My mind is the lone culprit. Bobby lives on without care about how he has affected others. I am laden with guilt about who I am, how I am a failure and why the hell I'm still here. For all of my faults, I am ashamed. Can Bobby say the same? Can he own up to what he has done? This is why I'm loud. This is why I speak. This is why I write. Who am I to talk?I'm just another loser.
After all that was said, I find out that Dad is fine with the way things are with Bobby. Though he doesn't see how I see it, he is content with the situation as it is. He will continue to hold Bobby's hand, indefinitely. 30 minutes into the debate, dad ended it and told me to shut the fuck up. So I did. I didn't want another trip on the merry-go-round. During the exchange dad had proclaimed I was the only one who has a problem with Bobby. Is this true? For all my barking, am I really the only one to be so bothered by him? Perhaps so. I really should shut the fuck up, shouldn't I? At the end of the circus act I felt like a complete jackass, granted, a jackass who at least got his point across. But then the guilt piles on, yet another thing to be ashamed of.
"Hello, failure."
"Hello" I reply.
No comments:
Post a Comment