Father's day today.

I wonder how my father feels. He's probably happy; in his own melancholic way. He thinks I don't love him when I do, and he tells me that I'm wonderful in my own right, though the world disproves this. He's got three children; me, my brother, my sister. He can be stand-offish; we wouldn't ask him to cook for us, we'd do it for ourselves, though he's more than enthusiastic about helping with homework or taking us to the pub.

I feel I've let him down with my 2.1. I've let myself down, yes, but him and Mum as well.

My little sister is a perfectionist, a clever sort, hardworking and dedicated. She does everything through channels; Mum thinks she doesn't go out enough, she goes out more. Mum is actually worried about her friendships; that she hasn't got any. I think she's verging on asperger's syndrome, but I like that about her; it picks her out and makes her special. It's strange that I think of this as an elevating quality. I think that she'll make friends with some perfectionists later, no wonder she's got none now; noone else her age is like her, but that'll serve as bonding material later. But she doesn't understand, so she has to be friends with people that aren't really her favoured friendship material. I wish Mum would let her be happier alone. I was. Maybe I'm just shadowing myself onto her. People can't be done through channels. I think she should join a drama group; but she won't.

My brother must be the child they wished for. Though I can't see it, people say he's good looking. He's bright but doesn't work. He emanates success; he's good at the guitar and that's all he wants to do, never mind school. He probably will do it as well. I'm jealous that he'll succeed where I've failed utterly; to find something he excels in and to take it. I'm still floundering. He's charismatic and knows what to say to everyone, and he's popular. Mum always talks about how he's got so many friends. She must be relieved that not all of us are social rejects like my sister and I are, misanthropic souls.

And that's my father's lot. I admire him, but I don't want to be him. I know that he is successful; but he doesn't care about other people, and he can be arrogant, and he doesn't see what we really want but rather what he wants for us sometimes; which is to be happy, but to be happy his way. He's a misanthrope, but a cheerful one, a cynic that bashes everything (and I'm starting to, in his way rather than my Mum's), he's too cool; he's musically aware and he likes all of these things that would make him a hit with my university friends. I feel if he was here he'd have made a better time of it than I have; I know he would have.

I feel guilty that I can't be as good as he or my mother are.

And what father's day present can I give to him? A mediocre daughter that fails.