| Current mood: |  sick |
| Current music: | Smashing Pumpkins |
Fathers Day
Six years ago I wrote you a letter, just like you had been asking me to do for the two years you had spent behind bars. It started off with all the silly meaningless bullshit I did to fill in my days then, just as you requested, but it quickly veered off to what I really wanted you to know.
It would have been so easy to get that weight off my chest while you were in prison, and I spent nights worth cursing you and vowing that I would kill you if I ever found out that what I had suspected, was indeed the truth. I felt that I knew it then, deep down something was wrong and after learning a few more things in college, I've got plenty of reason to believe that I was right all along. The fucking signs were right there the whole time, I just didn't know then what they were. Well I know now.
But I never sent that letter, because if I WAS wrong, there was no taking that letter back once it was out of my hands. I didn't want to chance hurting you that severely if I were wrong.
I’ve overruled my gut feeling for years now, and have grown to look at it as just a string of coincidences.
All of that aside, after the way you’ve treated me since you’ve been released…it’s finally built up enough to teeter over and destroy any sort of father-daughter relationship we‘ve managed to keep a hold on.
You’ve known me longer than you have your OWN children, and you’ve been my dad since I was 4. That’s 20 years of being treated differently that I’ve just ignored. Fool me once shame on you, fool me 98453 times, fucking shame on me. What kind of person would I be if I just kept taking all your bullshit? Not the kind of person I want to be. So Happy Fathers Day and consider this that last one that involves me. You're not even a stepdad, you're just some drug selling bastard that makes me sick too my stomach whenever I think about you for too long. So I'm done thinking about you.
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