You’ll never read this, and if you did, you wouldn’t know it was about you, which is part of the problem. You think you are flawless; no one would ever write a letter about you because you are perfect. The perfect doctor with the perfect girlfriend, the perfect job, and the perfect TWO children who love you.
What about that third child? You know, your first born? The one who looks like your mother, who has your mind for science… no? I suppose I’m technically no longer your child, you gave me up for adoption… two months before my eighteenth birthday. But you know what, I haven’t stopped breathing. I’m still here, and I am going to achieve great things except rather than them being for you, they will be in spite of you. Never have you done anything for anyone except yourself. Giving your child up for adoption so you don’t have to pay for their college expenses is cold-ice cold. Lucky for me, I have a step-dad who loves me and wasn’t about to let you bully me into emancipation.
Love. Do you know what that is? What kind of caring goes into that? Not your brand of love, which while we are talking about it isn’t love at all. Slipping into your daughter’s bed at night, telling her about her ex-wife, convincing her to fear god- none of that is love. So you know, the only one who slips into bed now is my baby sister so I can scare off the monsters, that ex-wife is my mother who has held me at night when I’ve cried, and that god you taught me to fear? I pray every night because if you feared him, he must be wonderful. I wish I could say I prayed for you, but I don’t have the heart to waste my precious breath. Maybe one of your two children do. After all, that’s what children do right? I wouldn’t know as I’m not yours. That’s what you asked for, right?
I mean, I can prove it with court documents. All those birthdays you told me I wouldn’t always be yours, I didn’t know you were planning this. How do you live with yourself – you planned to give your daughter up for over half her life and told her at every holiday. I didn’t have it in me to believe in that form of evil. You have taught me there is no limit to narcissism.
I remember when you were my hero. You came to career day, taught me my spelling words, played croquet in the field. I hardly remember those days because you turned into my monster- the one that lived under the bed and came out to get you in moments of weakness. The one that knew what you were afraid of and was always there, torturing you. I was the only 10 year old with insomnia and depression. Congrats. But again, that wasn’t your definition of perfect, so now you are back to your perfect family. Is it everything you ever wanted? Worth giving up your first born daughter?
You have taught me a lot, so thank you. I am finished with your brand of love and the hurt it caused. You taught me the symptoms of depression and abuse. You taught me how not to raise a child. You taught me what not to say. You showed me the wrong things to say. But most of all you taught me MY PARENTS ARENT PERFECT. But you know, that’s okay because at least my real parents try. What’s your excuse?