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Dear Daddy,
I have so many words to say, so many things to talk about so many things you’ll never know. Maybe one day I’ll be brave enough to ask you all the secret questions I’ve come up with. The questions that rack my brain deep at night, the thoughts that strangle me as I try to sleep.
I wish I could know if you truly see me as your daughter or just another way to make money. It seems the only time I hear from you is on my payday, the only way I can spend time with you is if I give you half, if not all, of my money. You disappear the second I’ve run out or on the rare times I deny you.
Is this what a father’s love is all about? Pining and paying for attention. Only to receive an indifference hum. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve taken an interest in something you like just to bond with you. Only for you to scoff and talk about how I don’t really understand.
You brag about me to all your friends, show off any achievement I make and yet, are never there when I need you. And seldom there where I do achieve something. Though in your drunken state you swear to help me and be there for me. But disappear when you become sober.
Two sides of a coin you have become. In your drunken state your vision is blurry and you don’t seem to recognize me as your daughter. Ever since I was little avoidance was often so I wouldn’t have to face the unwelcome advances you would make on me. I still shiver in fear when you hand ever so grazes me. And yet in your soberness you show me nothing but indifference, choosing to praise my opposite, my brother.
I was grew jealous of my older brother. He had not deserved but it was still there. For all he had to do was be there and you would acknowledge him, spend time with him and yet, he did not have to suffer the drunken accidental touches and misaimed kisses.
Though in your drunken state you have ruined your fatherly touch on me forever, with your hands grazing to close to places they should never be. With your kisses skimming past my lips too quick to call out but, still too noticeable. With your hugs lasting longer than need be while your hands brush upon my skin. Though your treatment of me changing from a daughter to a young women you find attractive and want to make yours.
Though I’m riddle in fear and anxiety whether you're drunk or sober, I still hope for the day. The day you acknowledge me as your daughter, the day you say you love and care for me as your little girl.
Will that day ever come? Will I ever feel like daddy’s little girl? Where I don’t have to fight to get acknowledged but don’t receive the wrong attention from you.
These are all the things I want to say to you. These are all the questions I wish to ask you. But as fear clutches my heart and anxiety wraps around my brain I must wait for the day that I am brave enough. Brave enough to face you with the possibility of rejection, hoping for acceptance.
Love,
a daughter begging for your love.
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