I use to ask myself so many questions about my father who left a void in my heart, I love him even though I don’t remember seeing him, all the information I have about him I was only told by people who had spent time with him.

Yes, I hate it to be told about my biological father when I suppose to be the one telling the story about him. I heard other people praising him while others criticizing him, I am left in the middle of the way not knowing which side to believe. 

It’s like when you are being raised by a single mother which has grudges against your father, she will never tell something good about him, he will be a dog without a tail and four legs. A two legs dog that impregnated her, you end up confused if whether you’re a humandog/puppyperson.

Some situations make you pretend as if everything is going well while being hurt, you might end up asking yourself what killed him?

I just took a decision to stop bothering myself by trying to fix the puzzle that has no solutions to whether pieces are placed in the right places. 

I call it growing up.