by Fred Meyer
As I grow older, when I do look in the mirror in the morning, I see more and more of my father’s physical characteristics reflecting back at me—and it disgusts and torments me. I see more and more of his hair, his eyes, his ears, his nose, his lips, and his whiskers. I don’t look in the mirror much these days.
As I grow older, while reflecting on my actions before I go to bed each night, I see less and less of my father’s behaviors living through me—and it encourages and motivates me. I see less and less of his arrogance, his rudeness, his self-centeredness, his meanness, his irresponsibility, and his unfaithfulness. I am not my father—I only bear a resemblance to him.
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