This is just a short little story/narrative that was going through my head that I wanted to write.
When I sit down to truly think about it, I am inherently different than my father. When I wandered around the streets of this snow covered city I can't help but wonder where you have gone to, who you are saving right now, and what greater good you are doing for the world while I sit here attempting to relish and adorn the memories of you I never had. Why did you leave me, father? Surely, you would know this pain and emptiness in my heart from having nothing but tales of your heroism to form my image of you. Surely, you would understand that this endless attention solely for the reason of being the son of a man I've never met, yet you still left me.
Does the greater good of the world, matter so much that you would place helping the lives of others over helping your own son? Did you think that because you were gone, I would study harder, in hopes that I would be rewarded by a father who wasn't even there? Was it because mother died bringing me into this world that you could not bear to see me? Because I took the life of the woman that you loved? Was I supposed to cheer up when I found out that, just like you, I'm going to teach at Mahora Academy when I graduate? Was I supposed to cheer, thinking that I would follow in your footsteps?
Or do you not even realize what it is like for me. Day in and day out, I study. I study not to learn something new, but to momentarily distract myself from my cold surroundings where every time I am around someone feels the need to tell me of your heroic deeds. I study in the hopes of finding some way to change this accursed destination. I'm not you, father, nor am I the same as my incredible grandfather that I was named after; simply for the reason that I am not a hero. I'm not some genius who in just a little time could learn anything that they were taught. I have to struggle everyday in order to keep up with the pace that you set for me, so that I don't disappoint anyone else. So that no one else will leave me.
I'll be graduating soon, father, but will you be there? Will you show up, clad in your finest robe and shake my hand saying, "I knew you could do it!" and then embrace me the way I always saw in my dreams, or will it be another occasion where the only words I hear are sugarcoated praise from all the teachers who felt "honored" to teach the next of the Springfield line? I ask, but I know the answer. You won't be there, because you have more important things to do. You have places to be and people to save, stories to make and awards to win. Do the people you save even know that you have a son that you left behind in order to save them? Do they appreciate the sacrifice that I unwillingly made so that they could be saved?
No, I think this in the end all comes down to something much simpler than any of this. It is because grandfather left you, isn't it? It is because you had to search for the father that you idolized and you felt that that made you into who you are. It is because you found grandfather, and now you didn't want to be the one who searches, but the one who is searched for. You want that little piece of self gratification in the thoughts that your son is out there doing everything he can so that he can find you, but you misunderstand one thing, father.
I'm not going to search for you.
When I walk through those doors and I enter into my life as a teacher at Mahora Academy, I won't ask any questions about you. I won't ask all of your old acquaintances if they had any idea where you are. I'll hide away that small part of my heart that yearns to see you, and I'll start over. I won't follow in your footsteps, father, so that one day when I have a son of my own I won't make the same mistake that you did.
Probably just going to leave it as a one shot unless a lot of people would like to see a second part. Hope you enjoyed it.