Letter I'll never send

Dear dead beat dad,

I'm not in pain anymore. One would think this is a good thing, but it's not. I'm mad. I am so upset with you. You left. You started fights. You said you'd call after work. You never did. I hate you. I got myself in trouble just to talk to you. I'm a "flight risk" now. Your perfect little princess, with a defiant behavior and a record to go with it. Did you know what you were doing when you picked that last fight? The one that was fatal to your relationship. Did you even care if you died that night. It seemed like you were in the hospital forever. To little me it was forever. I didn't see you for years. Then you just step back in and act like #1 dad of the year. What the hell is wrong with you? School supplies and a lamp for your 8 year old's Christmas. I couldn't even take those stupid gifts home because you were petty. Two birthdays in a row you sent a text saying you'd call after you got out of the "office." But you're not the office type. Every kid with an alcoholic for a parent knows what that means. We know what you are using "working late" for. You encode your wrong doings because kids are ignorant, right? So to my dead beat "dad," I hate you. I hate you for your actions, your personality, your alcoholism, for your profanities and infidelities. I do not hate you because I was coached or raised to. I hate you because you ruined me. I hate you because I want to move on, but I can't do it. How does one just forget their own parent? You don't. Leaving something like that behind is leaving a piece of you behind. I can't just break off a bit of my heart or chisel off the edge of my soul. It doesn't work that way. I wish it did, though.