Disappear

I am realizing I don't want to talk to my Dad because I don't understand what he sees. I don't know what I look like in his eyes. I can only remember what I looked like in the mirror that morning. I can only guess what name crosses through his mind. I barely understand what he sees in my face when he says I look tired and everything but that is true. I don't understand. I don't understand what he sees. I'm so used to analyzing other people, gathering their view of the world then emulating it in myself that when I don't know what he's thinking my whole personality crumbles. I feel uncomfetable and I don't know how I'm supposed to act, what stereotyoe I need to fill for them to ignore me so I can disappear into the background. I don't know... I need help and I have no where to go, no one who knows the truth and I don't have nearly enough confidence to burden someone else with what's on my mind. So here I am, writing on prose, to an audience I will never know because it is easy for them to dismiss me and for me to do the same in turn. Here, I don't have to pretend in order to disappear into the background. It happens by itself.