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 .