I am posting this not because I want to make anyone sad, or worried. I am posting this because it's real. I wrote this late at night after a really hard day, and I still stand by every word. To those this resonates with: I'm sorry. Whatever you're going through, you don't deserve this. And I believe we will all be okay. A letter to my fatherDear Dad,
I miss you. I mean, I miss the you that smiled at me and sung songs on your guitar with me on your knee. I miss the you I knew before all of this. The you that only came out once in a while. The you that I used to love. I wish I still loved that you. I don’t wish I loved the you that I see now. I don’t wish I loved the you that terrifies me. I don’t wish I loved the you that called a little girl evil. Because that you doesn’t deserve my love. I want to tell you a lot of things. Mostly about how you have no idea how to be a father. About how, because of you, I have never felt good enough. About how, because of you, I will never know if I’m faking my pain. Because of you I will always think I’m not a good person. Your words echo in my head constantly. You’re a selfish, narcissistic spoiled brat. Evil. Mean. Lazy. Heartless. Ungrateful. I really, really hope those things aren’t true, but a part of me will always believe they are. I don’t have a dad anymore. A dad is supposed to give good hugs and tell his daughter she’s beautiful. I don’t need that, I guess, but it would’ve been nice a few years ago. You know, when I felt like a failure; when I hated absolutely everything about myself. Or, no, you wouldn’t know. Because I was too terrified of you to talk to you. I don’t think you get it. I don’t think you understand how much this sucks. There is not a single adult in my life that I trust. That is your fault. You made me scared of you. You taught me that it is an adult’s job to invade a child’s privacy. I think you called it good parenting. You’ve backed me into a corner that I can’t get out of. And it’s not the corner you shoved me into as you told me you wished you could punch me. It’s a different corner. A really, really lonely one. Because I finally know I need help, but if I get it you will take away the one person who makes me okay. You will take away my life. And you’ve told me as much. So what do I do, Dad? What do I do when I’m so overwhelmed by your lectures and your yelling that I just run away. I hide from you whenever you seem even a little upset. Because it’s just too stressful. What do I do? Because it sucks. I guess I don’t do anything. I’ll do exactly what you want. I’ll wait. I’ll shut up. I’ll follow your rules and ignore my pain and hide when I can’t take it and clean your kitchen and react to your guilt tactics exactly how you want me to. I’ll do it all. And then, as soon as I can, I’ll leave. I’ll leave and I’ll never come back and then maybe, just maybe, I’ll be able to get help. I’ll do all of that, and I’ll try to fly under your radar so you don’t stress me out even more. But I will never, ever love you. And that sucks for both of us I suppose but you don’t deserve my love, and if I did love you it would be too much. It would be far too heartbreaking. Because loving the person who hurts you is weak. And I’m not weak. Sure, I used to be. I used to cry in front of you, and give you a reaction. But I am not weak, and I will never be weak again. I’m smarter than that, now. Thanks Dad. You made me strong, I guess. And you’ve made me not trusting which is good if you really think about it. I hope you find this letter one day after I’ve disappeared from your life, and I hope you read it and listen to me like you never did when I was with you. When you had the chance to actually care. Sincerely, Your Daughter.
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