All Nonfiction
- Bullying
- Books
- Academic
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Heroes
- Interviews
- Memoir
- Personal Experience
- Sports
- Travel & Culture
All Opinions
- Bullying
- Current Events / Politics
- Discrimination
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Environment
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
All Hot Topics
- Bullying
- Community Service
- Environment
- Health
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
- Back
Summer Guide
- Program Links
- Program Reviews
- Back
College Guide
- College Links
- College Reviews
- College Essays
- College Articles
- Back
Realized Fate MAG
Finally I gave up and became of father,
His messy room
piles of newspapers
As if especially to hurt
Mom's homemaker image she holds to herself,
The way he speaks
Annoyingly precise
To catch people in things they don't understand,
The worst I know is a physical attribute
Which will invade me quietly
His stiff tense intimidating chin
Jutting forward
Imposing frightfully
Whenever he is angry,
Whenever I am angry.
My mother cries to me over these things in him,
(Cowlicks in his smooth brown hair)
Since she knows
I will catch them like pneumonia.
She always feared me getting pneumonia,
Says I play too much sports.
My father loves sports. Mother hates them.
I like sports the way my mother hates them.
I see her anger as I leave her
for soccer games in the rain.
Her chin doesn't do that funny thing, though.
Dad smiles proudly as I leave
Wishing me luck to win.
She has yet to see my father in me.
My fate, I have realized, saddens her.
I'm catching his desires.
The cowlick hasn't come yet.
I can hear my mother coming
Up the stairs to my room.
She enters,
Disappointment and tiredness
Are thrown from her words.
"Get rid of those piles of clothes, Jess,
They've been there a week."
"Yeah, sure." I mumble sharply,
Not taking my eyes from my page.
I hear that all the time.
And she,
hearing my response like a skipping record,
She leaves, sorry for me.
Today we all gave up,
And I became my father.
Similar Articles
JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 0 comments.