Narrative Essay On The Liar's Game

1324 Words 6 Pages
The Liars Game

Over the last several years of my life, my relationship with my father has been rocky and it still is. I remember more than once my father had broken his promises and ignored me. He then pretends it never happened and tries to smooth things over. It makes me so furious to see and know that he does this and does not even own up to his responsibilities as my father. I refuse to call him “father” outside of an essay, but for the sake of the essay, he will thus be referred to as “my father”.

It was twenty twelve; the plan was that we would go to Pittsburgh for the day and come back home. I was ready; I had all my things ready to go. I had my things to spend the night at my father’s house and money
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I have not heard from my father for at least four years now. He blocked on every form of social media, I have written to him on many occasions, and to no prevail nothing. I have seen him on many occasions out in public, I move to say something and he gives me the cold shoulder, before I used to see photos on social media of him with his other kids, smiling and happy and I wonder why that couldn’t be me. Why am I the one that has to live without him? Then I remember that he is a liar, he breaks promises and lies to my face. He tries to smooth things over, but it doesn’t work, not anymore. One Easter, I was over at my Father’s mothers’ house and he was there. I was surprised, angry, and upset. I was all these emotions and I could do nothing but stare at him, waiting for him to make the first move. All he did, was look away from me, and pretend that I didn’t exist. I was angry, I let him have it at that moment, I said things that I had wanted to say since this had all started. I ruined the last little chance I had that might have made our relationship better, but then again there wasn’t one to begin with. Throughout these rough times in my childhood and teenage years, my mother and grandparents has been such a great pillar of support for me. They are there when he ups and leaves again, when I let him back into my life when I know that nothing has changed from the last time. Nobody understands unless they have experienced it first hand, the feeling of seeing my father enjoying himself, having fun, laughing with a different family that I am not included in. Most of the times I refuse to call him “father” or “dad” because he isn’t one, so he doesn’t deserve that title. Neither does his mother she doesn’t deserve the title of grandmother because she isn’t one, she makes no effort. A brief backstory to see why my father ended up the way he is today. My grandmother once did make an effort to come and see me,

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