Dear... Dad
I should start by saying that despite all that’s happened, I love you, but I can’t ever trust you again.
I know I was little and you say you didn’t lay a finger on me or anyone, but when you pointed a loaded a gun at mom when she held me as a baby, did you even recognize what you did?
The shit that you did fucked us all up. It’s not our fault, it’s yours. I’m not mad at you though. I’m sorry that things turned out like this.
It doesn’t excuse what you did, considering the shit you pulled made me into the mess I am today. You’re not a monster, you’re not evil. You’re just so fucked up from all you’ve been through that you turned into a disaster. I’m sorry that your sack of shit alcoholic father beat you, and treated you and your siblings like animals. I know how poverty completely destroys a mind, the mental anguish.
My question for you is, why does any of this happen? I know you won’t be able to answer it, just like me. It’s too much to bear. I just want answers, but I know that you’re so far gone in your own mental ruin and denial to ever seek help.
I love you, Dad. But I’m never going to see you or talk to you again. This isn’t about bitterness against you, I’m not mad at you, I’m mad at life. I just can’t ever go back, but there’s nowhere I can even turn to anyways.
I hope you find peace.