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Colorful and hopefully optimistic but maybe hateful occasionally

My dad was colorblind.

He hid it. He refused to believe he was “deficient.” That he had two disorders that only men could get. He would hide in the bathroom and come out wearing my mom’s makeup and clothes. He was always drunk when he did this.

He was jealous, quietly, of the colors I could see. He told me I could see more colors than anyone else and I had to be kind about it. He hated my little brother for not inheriting either disease, especially the colorblindness.

He was jealous of me. He was jealous that my mom loved me. He was jealous that I had a vagina and he was afraid to look at me as I got older — during the time he was sexually abusing my little brother.

I was in the kitchen with him. His chair is still in the kitchen. His cushion is in my bird room. When I was in there, he asked if he could talk to me. He was high off his mind. On a cocktail of things. Taking weird pills with alcohol. He looked depressed. He looked like the saddest man I had ever seen. The way he should have looked when his youngest son had to live in a wagon and then a wheelchair.

He said to me, “I don’t know why I do this. I don’t know why I’m like this.” He looked frightened for a moment.

It was like he was suddenly human. Then he tried to kill my mom. Like he suddenly wasn’t.
 
He was so sure he was deficient. He never felt lovable. His mom told him he was just a disease. A big body of fear hiding under beds. He stayed that age mentally. He still hides. He is afraid of people.

So he tried to force them to stay. Violently. He kills them if they stop. Or tries. I am sure mostly he fails, but the police don’t have enough evidence. He’s too calculating.

I stopped answering his calls. I should be more worried about myself. That he chose to get a house in the area where we live.
 
That means that on some level, he knows you can’t force someone to love you. If you have to force it, it’s crap.

He’s just calculating. He may have been asking for my forgiveness before he acted violent. Forcing me to have to give it to survive. Therefore, it was my fault if our mom got hurt.

My dad used to nurse a cat in his armpit. As in, he took the cat away from his own mom and got the cat to nurse the skin of his armpit when he was stressed. My dad thought it made him sexier. He’d try to get... you know. With the lady in his bed. (My other parent.) My dad was literally insane.
 
My mom is colorblind too. She sees colors differently. She never knew that until I told her two years ago, because she said my purple sweater was blue and I was like "nooooooooooooooooooo mom! You can't recognize colors! How were you a graphic designer for so long?" She was really upset by it, no one ever told her she was colorblind!

I always thought her use of colors in her work was sort of weird, but thought it was like.. designer's aesthetics or something lol No, colorblindness instead.

62 years of no one ever telling her: Hey, I think you don't see colors like the rest of us

edit to add that I didn't know, or I would've told her sooner.
 

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