When I was 5 years old, you were my hero and my best friend. You taught me how to have fun and be adventurous, taking me to all sorts of fun places where we met plenty of interesting people.
When I was 7, mum broke up with you. I was confused and scared, but I couldn’t bear to be away from my mum. I didn’t want to leave you either though. You made me feel like I was invincible. I felt safe with you.
When I was 10, mum and I had to move away and you got angry. I was sad. I visited you every school holidays and some weekends, but that never seemed to be enough. You tried to make me interested in your hobbies, but I just wasn’t, and I think you didn’t like that. But I still cared about you. You were still a fun dad.
When I was 16, I started to hate you. You made me feel small and guilty for things that weren’t my fault. But you’d still mask it in humour, like that would make it okay. It was like I was growing up while you were still a child. You criticised my weight, you ruined Christmas for me over a bowl of cereal, and made me feel worthless for being in a public school. I had so many other things getting me down, but I never felt like I had your support. I put up walls around you, locking away any love I had left.
After many, many years of hating you, dad, I’ve realised that you aren’t worthy of me feeling an emotion that powerful for you. You talk to my brothers in the same way you would talk to me, and I honestly think you are disgusting. What kind of father tells his 11 year old son that he’s “a piece of shit” and a “coward”? Our relationship has become purely business—whether it’s because you’re ashamed of me or you stopped caring too, I’m not sure that I need to know because I know where I stand now
At the end of the day, your actions will be your own undoing. You walk around like you’re king of the world, when really, you’re burning priceless bridges along the way, bridges that can’t ever be mended. I feel sorry for you. You’re wrapped up in your own world of gambling and shallow-minded criticisms, that I doubt you even know how to truly love another person. What kind of life is that?
So, dear dad, though you may never read this, I want you to understand that I don’t love you, nor do I hate you. I’m finally reaching a place where your existence is of no consequence to me, because I am too busy living my own life. Thank you for creating me, but I don’t need you anymore.
gummygunk
jacobvanloon
ellievsbear
vaporwave
baratheonpilled
annaxmalina
