I've always felt so incredibly neutral about Father's Day. My dad died when I was three, so it would be like, in kindergarten, "Let's cut out construction paper and make a pretty card for our dads!" And I'd be like, "Um...'kay..." Everyone, teachers and friends and my mother alike would be like, "It must be so hard for you on fathers day [EXTREME SADFACE]" and I'd be like, "You guys...I don't really remember him. Like, at all." I remember being jealous of not having one when I would see my friends goof off with their dads, just so incredibly jealous, that I couldn't even bear to look at them during those moments. But my jealousy wasn't based on missing my father, it was based on wanting something I'd never had and never will, so it was, to me, an odd...sensation? Phenomenon? I feel for those who miss their fathers due to death or estrangement, but what I feel is, shamefully, sympathy, not empathy. I mean, I feel mostly just vaguely guilty when someone asks me what I'm doing for my dad on fathers day, because when I explain, I feel like the other person is feeling worse about my situation than I do. I'm glad for those who enjoyed their day today, and I feel for those for whom this day is a bit more complicated, but if I get one more person asking me what I did today for my dad and getting a pity reaction, I'll...just feel bad for that person, I suppose.