Broken

March 26, 2017 was the first day that i saw my father cry.
We were having dinner in the kitchen table at 7:30pm when he looked down at his phone, and suddenly he threw the phone to the other side of the table and started crying with such emotion. My stepmother and I immediately stood up and held him. We were holding him so tight, we held him like his pieces were going to fall apart if we didn’t. He cried, he cried, he cried. Like he would never cry again, like he had never cried before. He cried like something inside of him has exploded, like his life had fallen apart. I wanted to fix every single thing that could've been broken inside of him. I wanted to get inside of his body and just fix him. I felt powerless, useless, but the way he held onto us... it gave me hope. I will never forget, how human he looked. Vulnerable, but especially, human. I waited for an answer, I wanted to know what was wrong. Something inside of me switched, my mind changed so fast. I realized how bad he was hurting, I realized how he never wanted to hurt me, but hurt people hurt people, no matter how hard they try not to. I realized i was not the victim here, I realized that all that he could do was pass on his pain onto me.