every picture is a story

i have him, a son…it was scary at first, for years i couldn’t fathom what it would be, couldn’t make myself doing it. i loved her but that change was just too much of change for me to swallow. you know what my biggest fear was, i never told no one, i was afraid that i don’t like nor love my son, not true, i would have loved him always, but what if i didn’t like him, what if he became a douche, an arrogant prick, a potato coach feeding on tv series and porn. well i dodged a bullet…so far. i think he’ll be ok, he is more handsome than me without being gorgeous, it means he will have to work on his charms, being sweet, educated, clean, interesting in short, smart will be a plus. but i sure hope he won’t take advantage of people…i will never raised him like that. a guy using his charms to get laid before moving to the next prey, like those blocks i saw once on a wednesday lady’s night… i can’t believe women can’t see the exploitation right there, no… i am sure most do and they won’t going to that wednesday groped ladies night, i hope only professional go there, it will square the tab at least.

i have so many things to tell him and teach him, but i am afraid of patronizing him, you know i want him to take over where i left, my personality helps him to enrich is…oh shit, what if he loves me but doesn’t like me…i am going to have a panic attack, i never thought about that. how can i tell him he is too much like me, but i have turned good without scaring him of the future disappointment he might see in my eyes. how to teach him that people have always the visage they deserve but that all the darkness he sees on mine is just mark of the past, like trophies of survival…he won’t get it, he is too bright, i don’t think i was like him at his age, but surely i was pretending to be. what if he doesn’t like me.