Blood is thicker than water

But without water one dies.

I might be slowly, quietly, saying goodbye to my father.
I grew up terrified of the man.
I knew he loved me and I loved him back.
But I was scared.
Scared of his outbursts. Of how his voice carried when he was angry. Of the way his hands moved.
I grew up listening for the sound of the metal gate at the entrance of our driveway.
When our family crumbled and he couldn't house us anymore, I said:
Good.
I had decided I wouldn't go back to his place.
But my father was hurt and he needed us. So I kept quiet.
I hadn't been unwilling to see him, only to live with him.
So I was there.
Recovery was slow and difficult.
It changed him.
So when he got himself a place, to start again, to rebuild his life, his family, I said:
Fine.
And I moved in.
I helped us settle.
I chose to give him a second chance.
I don't think he ever understood this.
I accepted to pack luggage every two weeks despite the anxiety it gave me.
I accepted not to mention our previous life. Not to talk about how fucked up I was because of it.
I chose to be there.
Oh he is a loving father.
I never doubted it.
He will do crazy things for love. Drive, buy, build.
But here is the catch Dad.
This was never what I needed.
I need you to be mine. to be my dad.
I need you to choose me.
chose me over others.

I grew up terrified of being abandoned.
Because I wasn't good enough. Not serious enough, not studious enough, not quiet enough, not smart enough.
I was always terrible at making friends.
And even worse at keeping them.
My life is a long list of people that I used to be friends with.
So yes.
I am possessive.
I am jealous.
I am terrified of being alone.

We were never a tightly knit family, but at least we are a family. Right?
We would always chose each other over the rest.
What a comforting though.
Even if I give up on anyone else, you'll still be there.
You'll pick me over anyone else.
No strangers in our ranks.

My friends are often surprised to discover how much of my life I compartmentalize.
I guess I don't trust my friends to remain my friends if they meet my other friends.

When G asked me to disappear from her life, it hurt.
I had thought we would remain friends.
We had friends in common.
But I am terrible at maintaining friendship.
I was never chosen over in a separation.
So I lost my friends.
Even my best friend who refused to choose me over.

When you met Morgane's mother I was scared.
Scared of what would happen if you guys broke up.
Or worse, of what would happen if Morgane and I broke up.
Would I have to choose you over my best friend?
Would you have to choose between your girlfriend or your daughter?
I don't think I would have ever required this of you.
But I was scared. Because this were two spheres of my life colliding.
I was scared that the shock might push me aside. throw me away.
Make me disappear.

Discarding me is a national sport.
I say I am used to it but to be honest I am not.
I became independent because I didn't know how to be good enough for people to stick around.
I was lonely. I became solitary.

But I would always have my family.
People who would be there for me, even when all my friends had deserted.
People who would be there for me.

"I am happy for you" You said when we announced that H and I were going to get a civil union.
"I am happy for you" You said as I left the kitchen.
I put on my coat, grabbed my bag, said good bye to every one.
I was going to leave and you said:
"G passes her best wished to all the family"
And I froze.
And my stomach dropped.
And in my chest my heart beat hard.

Because here is the thing.
I wanted you to have chosen me over.
I wanted you to have heard my pain and said goodbye to her.
I wanted you to have never spoken to her again.
She had asked me to disappear and dutifully I had done so.
I had lost my friends in the process.
"it's his life, his flat, his choices. get over yourself." She had told me when I had found out that you had housed her. In our flat.
The flat where I kept my stuff.
The flat I had helped you move in.
The flat where I accepted to move in.
"Get over yourself" she said. Not in those terms I will concede.
But I didn't want to.
You were my dad. You were supposed to pick me over,
you were supposed to choose me over.
When everybody else left you were supposed to be mine still.
I didn't have to share you with strangers.
Am I afraid of being replaced by someone who is better than me?
Yes.
I have always been.
But I thought at least I wouldn't have to compete with anyone to be my parent's daughter.

But here is the thing.
I know my father loves me.
But not enough to choose me.
He loves me because he is my father.
But not because of who I am.
He loves me because he never had to choose me.

Opinions diverge here.
I might be asking too much. That I should accept that one's ability to love is not limited to a number of people and that my father is allowed to maintain his friendship with my ex-girlfriend even when she banished me from her life and that this doesn't make him love me any less.
That I am unfair. That I am immature. That I am too possessive.
And I understand all that. I have come to accept this for everybody.
Except my parents.
Cold love and broken bones never cured me from the primal need that I have to be loved by my parents.

So here it is.
I must accept to share.
I must accept that I might not be enough for my father. That he needs to care for other people. That he needs to feel loved and appreciated and that he needs the positive validation of being a father figure to others.
I cannot provide that.
I am not enough.

I do not trust you not to hurt me.
You might not hit me anymore.
But it still hurts.
You do not want to choose me.
Fine.
You don't have to,
But neither do I.
I do not have to hurt myself.
I do not have to try to earn your exclusive love.

So I will mourn my filiation.
I will quietly mourn my desire to have my father for myself.
I will quietly mourn my belief that no matter what you'd always choose me.
I will quietly mourn my need to be in your life.

Oh I won't disappear.
Not completely.
I'll be there if you need me.
But I won't need you anymore.
I won't rely on you.
It's okay.