I wish he could actually hold me in his arms, caress my messy hair as I cry. He'd kiss me on the forehead, reassure me, telling me it's gonna be okay, that he'll always be here for me.
I wish I could actually spend my childhood with him raising me, goofing off with me, making me food, supporting me. I wish I could be here to comfort him when he's at his lowest the same way he comforts me.
Yes, he takes care of me, but besides the bare minimum, he actually loves me. He loves me despite knowing I'm broken. He always cares for and checks on me, even when he gets nothing in return. He teaches me things, no matter how hard they seem for me to learn.
He's not perfect. Nobody is. But you can tell he's trying his best. I love him. Fuck man, I love him so much damn it!!
Your "papa". He's not real. This is all nothing, but a fantasy of a pathetic broken child.