The way I see this world
Dad.
I was raised by women.
My mother divorced my father soon after I was born. I barely remember him visiting once a month. Mother told me that once he came with a little pack of hazelnuts and I gratefully thanked him: “Thank you, uncle father”.
When I was five, he died.
He was a bad man, the beat his mother and my mum, he drank and as far as I know he didn’t love me. After my elder brother was born he told my mother that he want a daughter. But he wasn’t satisfied with me. I wasn’t good enough. He didn’t like me.
My mother remarried. I hated my stepfather. He was no man, he had no spine. He was a drinker, too, not aggressive, but disgusting one. My brother and him, they had a war. Finally, my brother left home just because of my stepfather.
He was never cruel to me, but I hated him with all my heart. I’ve never listened to him, and despite the fact that he was mother’s husband for fifteen years, I never took him as a part of family, as an authority, he was always a stranger for me.
My mother divorced him, too.
She says that when I was a newborn, I never let men come close to me. I started crying and screaming, whether it was a grandfather, a doctor or my own dad.
