Child. My son. My own. I am yours and you are mine, and no one else is ours, and we are no one's. أنا و أنت معاً. How painful it must be for you to continually experience my rejection of you, and my looking down on you, and devaluing you. To know that I do not value you. That I don't think you're worth much. So sorry, child. To see that I am like this. To be unable to truthfully tell you that I love you, that I miss you, that I want to spend time with you, that you're valuable to me. But you are, I've just forgotten how. I'm sorry but I don't know how to do that. All I can think of are dark things. I can't find you. You won't come to me. Will a child give his father grace? Forgiveness? Mercy? Will I forgive my own father? Dad, will I forgive you? Will I show you grace? Will I try to begin to love you? To realize how much I needed you? You've wronged me, you've broken me. Look at me. Look at my broken mind, my broken heart, my broken view of the world. I needed you. I needed your love. Your encouragement. Your acceptance of me. Your gentleness and kindness, but I did not find it. I did not find you. But I know why you were like that. I know you're my equal. I know you suffered too. I know you didn't know any better. You were stupid. You were ignorant. You had unresolved issues. You had pain. You also had a mom and dad. Shall I give unto you what you have not given unto me? Where can I bring it from? Will you, child, give unto me what I have not given you? Where will you bring it?