Where are you? Why aren’t you here? With her? With me? Do I mean so little to you? Are you dead? Are you alive? Are you tall, short, strong, weak, black, puerto rican? WHO ARE YOU?! And more importantly, who am I to you? Do I mean anything to you, papa? Do you even know about my existence? Was I the reason for you leaving or was it just a one night stand? Or, maybe, you knew that you wouldn’t be able to support me, so you ran away, hoping that mama would be better off. Whatever the reason, I need closure. I don’t know if I should think of you as an enemy or someone I can look up to. Hell, for all I know you could be in the service. Or the man packing bags for me at Stop and Shop. Maybe a wrestler? Now, I’m getting besides myself. I can’t put a face to the word “father” or “dad”. I never knew you. But I want to. I really want to know who the other 50% of my DNA belongs to. I want to see if there’s anything that I do that I get from you. Maybe I get my voice from you. Maybe I get my smile from you or maybe I get my really bad dancing skills from you. I just want to know. Do I have your eyes? Your nose? Maybe your ears? Do I look like you? Do have any other brothers or sisters?  WHO ARE YOU?! Do I mean anything to you? Was there another name you would’ve given me?  Was there another town you would’ve raised me in? I love to read and act and sing and play my saxophone and run. If you were around, would I still love those things? Are any of those things things that you enjoyed? I want to know you. I hope one day, I can find you. Ask you these questions. But, until that time comes, I’ll wait. Here. In the dark.