Dear Dad,
How old was I when it changed from Daddy to Dad?
When all the security that two letters gave me when I had a nightmare disappeared

Was it before or after I turned eight?
Because when I was eight you blamed the death of my beloved dog on me
And you broke a part of me that was never repaired.

Yet you wonder why I can be so mean to you.
Why it seems like I have no respect for you

Maybe it’s because I don’t.

You’re a narcissist and I don’t have to respect you
The fact that you happen to be an adult means nothing and you know it
So stop trying to shove that in my face

The fact that you are my father means nothing
You have said more cruel things to me than the kids at school
Yet I’m supposed to love and cherish your existence.

Dear Dad,
When was it decided that it was okay for you to pretend like I have no feelings?
When did you decide that I had to love you but you didn’t have to show your love for me?

Was it before or after you decided that my sisters feelings were worth more than my own
And helped her kick me out of the vet when our dog was dying?
What happened to caring about my feelings?
What happened to being there for me?

Dear Dad,
At what point in time did you decide it was okay to call me useless and lazy?
Why did you think that I would want to hang out with you after that?

Maybe I don’t leave my room or my bed because I don’t want to see you
Maybe it’s because I’m depressed and can’t find the willpower to leave my bed.
Maybe I am useless and lazy.

Dear Dad,
Why do you get angry for being a decent person?
A decent husband?

You had a long day, so what?
Everybody has long days.
The fact that you started yelling because Mom wanted you to pick something up from the grocery store . . .
Really?

Yet you call me childish
While you’re sitting there throwing a tantrum.
A fifty-one year old man.

Don’t yell at me for standing up for my mother.
Don’t come at me for saying the truth.

I’m not the person I once was
I’m not afraid to hit you if you get too close.

I’m sorry that I’m not afraid of you like you want me to be.
And I’m sorry that I’m not sorry at all.

But if you ever mess with the things I care about again,
It won’t end well.

Signed,
Your forgotten child.