As I Sit Here
I sit here. I am staring back at myself. With each passing minute, I see myself less and less. I see glimpses of people, some I have not even met.
My face is no longer my own. It is slivers of people before me.
A look at the photo of my biological father, a look at me. One can tell we are related; that he is the man that conceived me. I do not really remember him. He is a blur; a dark goatee, glasses, a close cut. I look like somebody one would think I am close too, but I am not. His voice is a muffle in the background. Who is this man? Sometimes I wonder about whom he is, how he is. Is he funny? Is he kind? Is he mean? Is he serious? Am I similar to him beyond just appearances? I wonder, but for some reason, I dare not ask.
People say that grandparents and grandchildren tend to look more similar than children and parents.“ He has his grandfather’ s eyes”, people declare to the parents. That is all dependent on genes. Some tend to skip a generation. Apparently, that rule applied to the genes granted to me. My face is almost a mirror image of my father’ s dad. The shape of my face is a trace of his. This stranger, I am like this stranger. I have never met him, never heard him, never seen him from a distance. I do not know his name. What am I supposed to call him? How am I supposed to approach him? According to my mum, who according to his mom, the sir and I have a lot more than just appearances in common. My introvertness is a reflection of his.