I really must.
I don’t know about the rest of the world, but I LOVE having a father who doesn’t support me. Doesn’t show interest in my life. Who even lets his snide little girlfriend yell at and threaten me Oh, here’s the best thing. I love a father who will gladly sit there and laugh WITH her about how pathetic and idiotic she thinks I am.
What a great father.
I just love getting kicked out, then made to feel terrible for leaving, THEN come back and have my room painted and turned into a stupid craft room for his stupid girlfriend.
Plus, this super dad of mine constantly prods at me to get a job. Does it look like anyone is having an easy time? Yes, blame me for not going down to cute little high school pharmacy ONE time, and asking about my application. Blame me for not having a phone for over three months.
Come to think of it. Most of my life, you’ve been blaming me for things.
Yeah. I’m nineteen.
Yeah, I act like a child.
No, you don’t like it.
Yes, I like who I am. So deal with it.
I am not you. I am not your perfect little girlfriend.
Don’t get on my case for not completing the dishes on CHRISTMAS.
Let her sit around, nap around, and eat; whilst sometimes going out, and barely lift a finger. Barely lift a finger unless she has to go to work at a school district. Or go to a bar. Have fun. And Sing. Barely lift a finger unless it’s her cats, or a bored Opie eats her precious shoe. OH! Or unless she wants to F***.
What does she even DO around here?
I know you, oh greatest of fathers, work when you shouldn’t be.
I know things are tight.
But if you knew that, then why’d you want me back here?
You give away my room, let her laugh, scream and treat me like like garbage when I don’t do things her way? When I don’t follow orders like an army dog?
That may be how she was treated, but I’m a bit more laid back than that.
Things get done, don’t they? So stay out of my space. I’d give up my voice, if you’d only stay out of my room. There’s a thing called privacy.
I’ve posted ads. Filled out applications. I’ve even begun starting my own business! I’m studying my driver’s manual. I’m trying to study up on math. I can’t take my test if I suck at math.
On a side note; because I really have no clue, What in the WORLD and I lying about? Because I can’t remember the last time I actually told a lie, lady.
So. Dear Best Dad ever.
You’re not really much of a dad anymore.
I don’t want to be your daughter.
I can’t even tell you a big part of my life. You could have helped me. Could still help me. Because I’m still scared.
I’ve never gotten into drugs, or alcohol. I’ve never done anything illegal. I’ve never ever snuck out of the house; you always knew where I was going, who I’d be with, and when.
All that trust and caring just stops when your cow moves in? When I have a birthday? Get a boyfriend?
Where were you when I ever needed you? For the first time in thirteen years, I hugged you and cried into your shoulder the other day. I don’t think that’s right. It wasn’t even about what it needed to be about.
I guess someone you can f*** is more important than your little girl, who will always BE your little girl.
She sickens me. I can’t believe you let her trample over people.
I pretend to get along with her, and like her, for you, because I love you unconditionally.
But papa.
You sicken me too.
Sincerely, Does it even matter?