To My Father:

It seems like every time I think of you now, two words come to mind: Anger and Fear. Always both. It's never one without the other, and there's never a third or fourth feeling to go along with them. Gone are the days when I thought of love and comfort and safety. You're a big bully - a loud voice and a heavy hand trying to prove your dominance. I'm not Cory, Dad. You don't need to prove your authority to me. Or maybe it's the other way around - you're not proving your authority, you're excercising it. Whatever your reason, I'm sick of the hate and the fear. I'm sick of the only think you feel being anger. Do you realize that you're angry all the time, Dad? You're never happy for more than five minutes. The anger rules you, it controls you. And the rest of us are just swept up in the tide - things to be abused while you vent your rage on the world. Somtimes I'm ashamed to call you my Dad. Sometimes I'm ashamed to live in the same house as you. I can't belive that I'm related to you some days. And the way you treat me...I'm on my own now - your attitude makes it all too clear. I'm either an adult or a child - never both at the same time. Just one or the other. I wonder if you'll ever know how much I hate that? I wonder if you'll ever realize how much I hate the way you make me feel. I'm either terrified of you or constantly angry with you. Once again, it's never really both. Things with you are black and white. Never gray. You see what you want to see and never stop to think about what's in-between. Like me. I'm incapable of fitting perfectly into the little cookie-cutter shape you've set for me. I bend it and break it and confuse you to Hell. Sometimes you write it off as me being a teenager. But you know you don't understand. That's all you'll ever realize. You've yet to put two and two together and see that you don't really know me. You stopped knowing me years ago, Dad. And I don't think that will change. I don't think you will ever change. We all know what altered your personality - it's staring us in the face. But even if you left, would that change anything? Would it change you? I doubt you can go back to being the man you used to be. To be honest, I hope I never meet a man like you. All the qualities you possess I've come to hate. Sometimes I think you're the reason I'm scared to love. Because of your harsh judgement, I'm scared to be. I don't want that critical look turned on me, but I know someday it will. Someday you'll know who - and what - I really am. And you'll hate me then, won't you? You won't accept me, even if you could. But then again, you can't, can you? I'm an anomaly after all - I violate the laws of "nature." I'm inherently "unholy." I don't believe in your God anymore, Dad, because everything you say your God stands for damns who I am - who I've become. Will you damn me too, if your God demands it? You're so damn blind, Dad. You won't see anything that goes against what you've set down in your mind as "right." How many times have I had to listen to your racist, sexist, homophobic comments? You hate anyone that's different from you. You treat people differently if they aren't just like you. But you don't see that! You never have! You think you're being perfectly fair to make fun of Hispanics, Asians - hell, Dad, you made fun of my friends' religions! Don't you think that hurts me? Maybe it was meant to be this way. Maybe I was meant to have you as a father so that I could learn to see everything in a different light. Maybe I was meant to hate every word that came out of your mouth and face it with gritted teeth and bitter tears so that I could open my eyes and my mind to the greater, grander picture of the world. And you know what? I'm damn proud of that. I'm fucking proud that I can hold my head high and say that I don't need to discriminate against or hate people in order to feel good about myself. I can be content with finding the good in people, and loving them for being different from me. Until you can understand that....well, you'll never know me, will you? I'm sorry I'm such a disappointment to you, Dad. But I'll never be what you want me to become. I'm sorry that you don't understand me and my world and I'm sorry that you never truly will. I'm sorry it's so damn hard to love you. How can I when you're acting like this? How can I feel confident and safe when you think it's perfectly acceptable to hurt the ones you love? I used to think Cory was silly for saying you were abusive - those little sparks of fear and disgust I saw in his eyes were just folly in my mind. You? Abusive? How could it be? I was so stupid, Dad. I completely forgot how cruel and harsh you can be when you're angry. Nothing penetrates that red haze. You threw Roxy out of the car, today. She's a fucking puppy, Dad. She doesn't know any better. But you should. She doesn't deserve to be kicked and strangled for being what she is. Do you see why I'm scared of you now? I'm so scared that one day it'll be me - I'll be that helpless little thing being kicked around and beaten into submission. I'm so ashamed of you. Even Mom thinks you take things farther than they need to be taken. I'm sick of being angry with you. I'm ashamed of it. I'm even more ashamed that sometimes I wish you weren't my Dad. You've made me loathe the very things I was "supposed" to love. And I know this isn't what you wanted for any of us - for you and Cory or you and me. I know you didn't want our relationship to be like yours was with Grandpa Jack. But look at it, Dad. It's turning into that bit by bit. We're forced to keep our distance out of fear and frustration. Mom says you're trying - are you really? Sometimes I think you've forgotten how. I'm so sorry, Dad. I hope that you can understand someday that beneath all the fear and anger I feel, for all the negativity I hold against you at any given time...I still love you.

--Your Daughter