to the Father, from the Daughter
Why do you have to be such an asshole sometimes?? You cut people off, not caring what the hell they were saying. You complain because we tell you nothing; but when we do, you ignore us. I've tried to ask you about plans and such, but that precious computer or television is far more worthy of your time than my filling your specific requests. Your comments that you think are so amusing -- did you ever think that maybe they're sometimes rude and offensive, and usually unnecessary? No, of course not. Why would you? That would be out of your circle of focus. Your attention can stay only at one thing at a time, and it's whatever the fuck you want it to be. Even if it's dire for you to think about or focus on something or someone else, you don't.
But I know it's not your fault. You don't say those things to be cruel, and you don't ignore us because you don't want to hear us. You're just dumb. No, really, you are. You're exceptionally ignorant and naive. So how can I be mad at you? How can be angry at and hate you when none of it is actually your
fault. No, it's not my fault, either. Technically, it's no one's fault. However, people always have to place the blame somewhere. And because I can't place it on you, that's why I often send it to me. So it's not my fault that your ignorant and dumb, but I'm to blame. Because maybe if I didn't let it all bother me, or if I'd just shut up and take it like I should, then maybe I wouldn't have to place the blame on anyone.
You're asking who you can go to A-Kon as. Did I invite you? No. I'm going with Billy. And he didn't invite you either. Moreover, did you even bother to find out if I minded you coming? Of course not. You just decided you were going to come. And tease me about Billy all the time. You tease me about having so many guy friends. And you think it's funny. If it came from anyone else, it would be.
But I've always wanted to be your perfect "daddy's girl," because that's what you expect of me. You don't expect me to be me, but rather who you want me to be. And I try. I try to be whatever you want. But that means the things you say affect me more than whatever anyone else may say. So everytime you tell me I’ve got Titanic hips, I don’t keep promises, and it’s as if I don’t live here anymore because I’m always with friends — well, I start to believe it. What you say makes me want to stay home. I think that I should
stay home, that I shouldn’t be allowed to go out with my friends. I often think that I should go to every Girl Scout event you mention to me, that I should like whatever shows and hobbies you like, that I should have totally the same opinions as you. . . . Your words . . . they take away my individuality, my sense of self. Rather than being who I am, it seems that I should be who you
are and who you
want me to be. I’m not my own person, but rather your
And I know that’s not how it is. I know that you’re just doing what you think is best for us. You try your hardest, and I really appreciate that. But not enough; I don’t appreciate it enough. Instead, I just sit here and complain about how horrible of a father you are. And you’re not. You’re a wonderful father. I’m just not grateful for all I have — especially for you. You cause yourself great stress and anxiety, all so you could give us what you think is the best. Then I’ll take it and complain about how it’s not good enough.
Maybe I deserve all the guilt I have for trying to go against your will. Because I’m not thankful for what I have. But once I learn to value you, then maybe things will be easier. Then maybe I’d understand why you do what you do, say what you say, etc. Perhaps then you’d make sense to me. And perhaps then I could be the perfect “daddy’s girl” that you’ve always wanted, but was never granted. Maybe then I’d be who you want me to be. I’d be the daughter your deserve. Current Mood: not good enough