I try talking to you but you will never understand. I don’t see how it is so difficult to get. You ask me time and time again what is wrong, and I tell you. Then you get angry for me feeling that way that I do. Maybe if you weren’t such a prick you’d be able to understand that you have more than one child. My brother isn’t everything. He’s a 16 year old child. Sorry that I cannot throw a baseball as well as he can so I won’t end up being your meal ticket. Sorry I go to college and try my best but cannot find a summer job this summer. Sorry I’ve always tried so hard to live up to your expectations, but always fail. Sorry that I am such a disappointment. I hate that you try and act like you care about me when you don’t. Fake love doesn’t suffice for real love that a father should give to his daughter. You take things away from me because you get mad that what I speak is the truth. I’ve decided that it’s not worth saying these things to you anymore because it truly is just a waste of my breath, so I’m writing this letter that you will never read–and good thing you won’t read it because you won’t even listen to the words I have to say anyway. You have ruined our relationship as far as I’m concerned, and who knows if it will ever be mended. If you want to start to mend anything, then you’ll have to think about the words you say to me in the first place. Telling me I need to go to the gym, go find a job, or go do this and go to that, isn’t the way to have a conversation. Harping on me only drives me more away from you. Clearly we already have nothing to talk about. It’s such a shame that we are the way we are because you used to be my favorite parent. Now all you do with your stupid life is focus on the 16 year old who doesn’t deserve the attention and the thousands and thousands of dollars that are spent on him.
The more I write the more I realize that there are not enough words that can express my situation. I can’t even begin to describe the feeling of not being able to express how I feel because anything I say is not equivalent to the way I actually feel. I hope that you change, but it could be too late.
Sorry I’m not who you wanted me to be.