Dear... Eat Your Heart Out, Dad
I hate you.
I hate what you did.
I don't know why.
Why can't you see it too?
Don't you know what you did was wrong?
You say you don't know why I hate you. When you say that, a piece of me dies. I don't want to hate you. I tell you I don't hate you, but in reality I'm too scared to tell you that I do. Why can't we be a happy family? All my friends love their fathers, but I can't do that. Whenever I told you I was an omnisexual, why could you not accept me? I don't want to be a boy, but I feel so wrong being a girl. And now I can't even tell you that I am non-binary because I live in the constant fear of being beat, yelled at, degraded, abused, scared, but why do I feel that?
I don't hate you. But I sure as anything don't love you. I'm only nine, can't you see? I don't know why I feel this. Why won't you just accept me? And dad, if you see this, please don't be mad. Telling me I'm not gay doesn't do anything. Beating me might make me fix my ways, but it doesn't make me feel any better. I can't do anything now. I feel unloved. Worthless. Disgusting. Scared of what will happen. Mom is supportive, so why aren't you? I might go to hell. I might be scared. I might even be killed. But that doesn't matter. I want to die anyway. I'm used to being yelled at. We all make mistakes. Are mine really that bad? Comparing me to my sister never helps.
I get it, you're black. You have the right to say the n-word. I do too, I'm mixed. But continuously screaming the n-word at me over, and over, and over again feels much worse than calling me by my name, Lilli.
I did just expose myself on the internet, and that's okay, nobody will care anyway. Whenever you took my phone, going through my search history, repeatedly reading it out loud and beating me as hard as I ever thought you would, I knew at that moment you were toxic. I can't even leave the tabs open when I go to the other side of the room, in fear you will find something. Not that I have anything bad, I just feel like you're gonna somehow make it bad. You heard my screams and cries. You saw it too. "It hurts!" "Stop!" "Please!" "No!" I know you heard them. But you decided to keep on humiliating me in front of everyone I love. I can't even sleep in my own bed without thinking about that night. I didn't deserve that. I looked up some things I shouldn't have. And that's okay. But you went too far. I had dark purple bruises for the next few days. The dark hues haunting me every time I saw myself. They terrified me.
You are part of the reason I have such low self esteem. Why every time I look in the mirror, I can't even stand what I see. You tell me that I'm just so "beautiful". Define that. Every time you see me, I usually have on the clothes from the past three days, with tear stains on my cheeks, messy hair, with my hood on and a glare on my face. When you see that, do you see beautiful? Or do you see what I see. I see a worthless, ugly, creature who doesn't know her worth.
So, if you are in a similar situation, then it gets better, I promise.