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Kelly Smithwick
Rhoda Lukens
UWRT 1101-071
September 23 2014
Ive Got No Time For Feeling Sorry

Super Bowl XLVI was played on Sunday, February 5th, 2012. The New York Giants and
the New England Patriots set out to see who was the best of the best that Sunday evening.
Apparently the Giants won, and Madonna performed during halftime, but I was too busy arguing
with my parents to remember. I was 15, yet I thought I was 25 and could do whatever I wanted. I
wanted to ask my mom if I could meet him, but I didnt have the courage. However, I somehow
built up the courage to tell my mom that I wanted to meet my birth father. What I didnt realize
was that me saying that would send her crying like I had never seen before.
As a four year old kid, I always thought my life was perfect. I lived with my mom and
grandparents. I had my favorite blanket with me at all times while I was at home. I didnt have to
share my toys with anyone, and every once in a while Grandma would let me have two cookies. I
remember that once a week, Mom would go out for the night, and leave me with Grandma and
Granddad. What I didnt know was that she was going on dates with this guy named David. She
took me with her once, and we went to his house. He lived kind of faraway with two other guys.
He ended up moving to Reidsville a couple of months later, only two minutes away from our
house. I remember one night he gave my mom a ring and she was really happy, but I didnt know
what was happening. What I didnt know was that only six months later I would finally have a
dad.

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My mom and David got married on November 9th, 2002. It was cold and I lost my charm
bracelet. Thats about everything I remember from the wedding. Although, I remember more
from the reception, such as dancing with my new dad. I was embarrassed to dance with him, and
ran away as soon as it was over. Since I was only six, I went home with my Grandma and
Granddad so I could get my pajamas on and get ready for bed. I was allowed to stay up until
Mom and David got home so I could tell them goodnight and, though I didnt know it, goodbye.
They left for their honeymoon that night, and came back a week later. Mom and I moved into
Davids house later that month. I slowly started to call him Dad, even though it felt weird. He
became the best Dad I had ever had. I didnt know it back then, but he was the man that was
supposed to be my dad, not the man that helped create me.
It was ten years later, during the 2012 Super Bowl, that I learned the answer to all my
crazy questions: He didnt want me. Mom told me that when she was giving birth to me, it
wasnt Keith in the room with her, it was her roommate at the time. She explained to me that
before I was born, she and Keith both signed papers to put me up for adoption. I spent a week in
an orphanage before Mom changed her mind and decided she wanted to keep me. She also told
me that when she and David got married, Keith signed papers allowing David to become my
legal father. She primarily told me that he didnt want anything to do with me. This hit me like a
wrecking ball destroying a run-down mill.
For the next two years, I woke up every morning wondering why my own father couldnt
love me and why my mother, who is supposed to love my unconditionally, abandoned me. I had
trust issues after my mom told me she gave me up too. When I told my best friend this story, she
said sorry and brushed it aside. I figured that I must not be worth the time. I was angry with the
world and with God. My relationship with God was close to the breaking point. I started to hated

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people I had loved all of my life. I was mean to everyone, and lost several friends. I kept
picturing what the world would be like if I killed myself, although, I knew that I could never do
it. I didnt want to be that person, the person that everyone forgets about, and then when that
person dies, people say Its a shame and She was too young. I would put up a front every
day before I walked out of my room to keep suspicions down. It fooled my family, my friends,
and at some points, myself. I kept all of this anger inside of me for too long. It was killing me on
the inside. It wasnt until English IV Honors that I let out all my emotions towards Keith.
Mrs. Wilson was my teacher. She knew that we all hated poetry, but she showed us the
amazing poetry performed at poetry slams. One video she showed us was three teens slamming
about the father they didnt have. This hit me harder than anyone else in the class. After this
video, she challenged us to write two poems. One funny, and one serious. We then had to read
them in front of the class. I didnt have the guts to read mine, so a girl named Kathleen read it for
me. This was mine:
I hate your voice, even though Ive never heard it. I hate your smile, even though Ive
never seen it. I hate your eyes, even though Ive never seen them. I hate everything about
you, even though Ive never even met you. I hate you, my father, even though Im yours.
I hate everything youve ever put me through, even though you dont know it. You hate
me, even though I secretly love you.
After I wrote this poem and read it in front of my peers, I realized that I had been worrying and
stressing over something that I have no control over. I started to trust again, to love again, my
relationship with God got stronger, and I wasnt hostile anymore. I returned to the old me again
for the first time in two years. I hurried back to being Kelly.

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Revisions
I listened to my peers about what I should change. My peers told didnt tell me to change
much, other than the language of certain paragraphs and to add more descriptive adjectives
and verbs. I am more confident in this revised version than I was in my rough draft.