Words are meaningless without the data to back it up the same way my dad tells me he loves me but hasn't gave me a hug in 20 years because I'm a failure in his eyes.
See it all started when I had dreams of becoming a professional juggler. I practiced day and night, tossing around everything from oranges to bowling pins. Unfortunately, I had a unique talent for dropping things often. One day during a talent show I confidently stepped onto the stage and as the spotlight shone down I threw my first orange high into the air but it came crashing down on my own head. The audience erupted in laughter at me but I just stood there dazed and confused before Naruto running off the stage.
After the show when I looked for my dad in the crowd hoping for some support I instead found that dad was laughing with a group of friends saying, “Well, at least he’s consistent!” That stung me to my core. I couldn’t help but think, “If juggling oranges is my calling, then I guess I’m destined to fail.” I left the stage feeling like a failure, convinced my dad didn’t love me because I couldn’t even juggle a simple fruit without a disaster.
Fast forward a few years and I decided to try something different—I took up cooking. I thought “How hard can it be?” But every dish I made turned into a culinary catastrophe. Dad visited one evening and after tasting my burnt spaghetti jokingly said “Well, if you can’t juggle, at least you can make a mess in the kitchen!” I realized that dad’s laughter wasn’t about not loving me though it was just his way of coping with the chaos. In the end I learned that even if I was a failure at juggling and cooking I was still loved for being myself—messy, clumsy, and all but he'd never actually ever been proud of me.
So anyway that bring me to the 4rth grade and one time...
