”In the end I think it’s better for them. They don’t need to know me. They will imagine a villain, a selfish creature, that deep down could not care less about them. It will give their suffering some weight. Build character even. I will be a mindful obstacle. In therapy they will overcome me. Nobody wants a flawed parent, it can’t be that complicated. Just some asshole undone by his weaknesses. It’s just so fucking lame. Perhaps even more painful in retrospect. It’s better for me to be a demon. All of my fragile humanity will just frustrate them. Too much pity will obstruct their growth. They will grow stronger if they hate me. To answer your question: yes I knew what I was leaving behind. I just couldn’t stop myself. I just kept on walking, I kept telling myself that I would turn around eventually but I never did. I do miss them, but even if I manage to return, I know I will walk away again. It’s in my nature, runs in the family. I wish I was a better person, but this is who I am…. Again please don’t tell them where I am. It’s better if you them that you couldn’t find me. Presume me dead. You will only be doing them a favor.”
Photograph taken somewhere in Poland.