father: n. a man who gives care and protection to someone or something.
The last time I saw you, really saw you,
You told me you loved me.
But you didn't mean it.
At least not like you used to. Like you used to pretend to.
Before your other two kids were born.
I guess I must have been a mistake.
An unplanned middle child.
One that you didn't want.
I came after your first, before your third and fourth.
I am my least favourite number.
Is that why it took you two years to say "I love you"?
I can not even remember how those words sound when crafted in your voice.
Unless they were hiding tension.
Or guilt.
Or obligation.
I never heard them for what they mean.
Your excuse was always:
Mom was watching, and you needed to look like a man.
The police guards were watching, and you needed to look like a man.
Your fellow inmates were watching, and you needed to look like a man.
Your other women were watching, and you needed to look like a man.
Your job wasn't to look like a man.
It wasn't to be a man.
It wasn't to sound like a man, think like a man, portray a man.
Your job was to be a father, to love me and make it known that I am your daughter and you are proud of me, even if you never show it. Or even say it.
I expected that from you. I expected you to know I was going to one day become something you were proud of, something you could say to make people think differently about you, because you raised me to your standards and look how I came out. I expected you to show me what it's like to have a life, I expected you to teach me how to drive, I expected you to help me with homework, and pick me up from school, and
I expected you to care about who I am as a person, because I am your daughter.
Instead, you taught me that when I'm angry, upset, frustrated, confused, stressed, unhappy, depressed, content, or feeling any emotion whatsoever, I should run to alcohol and drink until I can feel nothing.
Instead, you taught me that you didn't care if I carved words into my skin, as long as I wasn't hurting anyone else I was fine and even if I did commit suicide it would be selfish and I shouldn't be scared of the demons in my head because they can't hurt me, they're trapped inside and they have no way to break the walls and besides being scared of yourself makes you a coward and a ***** and that's ridiculous.
Instead, you taught me that crying never gets me anywhere and if I wanted something I should just take it because no one will ever know it was me and no one will ever suspect a blonde girl in a dress to steal from a shop and as long as I look as innocent as I can then I can get whatever I need without ever paying for it because I can pay with my innocence.
Instead, you taught me that when you are drinking is the only time you will ever be proud of me for the one line in the play I landed and that even though you were never there to see it you knew I did good because I'm your daughter but even though I messed up because I looked into the crowd to find your face and forgot my line when I saw my mother with an empty seat beside her, I am still part of your family and we are good at saying things we don't mean and leaving.
Instead, you taught me that my sister will always be better than me and there is nothing I do to compete because even if I was stronger than her I would always be too small to fight her even if it was for self defense and if I try it and end up with a black eye it was my fault because I was warned of the cyclone of rage that lived within her chest and I should have known I did not stand a chance against her for she is better than me in every way.
Instead, you taught me that spending a day out in the sun working on your truck and sweating all over the ground and accidentally spilling your beer all over you which made the grass stick to you which you hated because you hate grass was better than spending a day with me inside watching movies and eating ice cream in the air conditioning with the dogs laying on my lap and cuddling with me because they know that if they did not do so I would be alone.
Instead, you taught me that I was worthless and didn't deserve love because who could ever love someone with a body full of scars and stretchmarks make you ugly because you were not born with those lines on your body, they got there because you put them there, you wanted them there so you can suffer the consequences of your own actions.
I taught myself what it's meant to be alive. I taught myself how to drive. When I didn't know how to do my homework, I didn't do it. I ride the bus home from school because no one cares enough to come pick me up and
I am the only one who cares about who I am as a person because I was taught at an early age that I am the only one I can rely on.
Where were you when I wanted you to come see the plays I was in?
Absent. "I don't like plays."
What about the guard shows?
Absent. "I don't like guard shows."
What about my marching shows?
Absent. "I don't like marching bands."
All of this is sickening.
The most sickening of all,
Is knowing that you expect me to love you even after all the **** you put me through,
like nothing
ever
happened.
But it did.
And every time I look at you,
I see hurt
pain
rejection
loss
death
addiction
abandonment
why have you made it a habit to prove to me how much you hate me?
You're supposed to be my father,
but you don't fit the definition.
f.m.s.
I hope one day you see this and cry yourself to sleep like I did for many nights after you left and came back and left and came back. I hope you hate yourself and burn in hell for what you have done to me. I'm 16, I shouldn't have this much baggage and regret. Thanks though, I'm a much better person than you'll ever be.