Everyone has a dad who they think is the most wonderful man in the world. But do you really know who he is or do you just see his cover up. Like he is hiding a whole other person underneath. Well that's what happened to me. I saw my real dad, the guy on the inside.

My dad, oh how I thought he was the best person in the world. The one person I could trust, would be able to talk to about anything. But over the years that thought is no longer in my head.

My dad has done things that are unexplainable, half of it I don't even know. Some I don't remember but from first grade to now I remember plenty. Like they happened yesterday. Like the day he got so drunk he took my mom's car and crashed. And that is just the beginning of his path of idiotic decisions.

Things were horrible between my mom and him. She was scared of him. Even though he never did hit her (she was still scared). With his drinking problem he wanted her money for more and more to drink. She would have to sleep with her purse just so he wouldn't take her money.

I remember hearing the yelling, the yelling that all one day ended and changed my life. My mom asking him where he was all night. And he not caring about her feelings saying he was with another woman and showing her his hickeys. I couldn't do anything to help my mom. The countless times of seeing tears run down her face. Our family telling her to leave him, but her always saying he will change.

But did he change? No. Nothing changed. For a day or two everything would be perfect, but once he went back to drinking it all went down hill.

One day that will always haunt me is the day my mom told my dad she was leaving him for good. I was in second grade, we get home he is sitting there (of course drinking) we all go to my mom's room, she sends me to give him a letter she wrote. I go back to her room, she sends me back to him, where he is now outside. To ask what he is doing. He doesn't answer. She walks outside tells him to stop because she knows what he is doing. I have no idea what is going on.

I process the scene. With the ladder, the rope hanging over the tree with a loop in it, just big enough for a head to fit it. Now we are both yelling at him to stop. But he doesn't listen. He steps off the ladder. My mom runs inside and dials 911. As I stand there to get my sister I watch him as his eyes roll back and turn completely white. Once he hung himself no word could explain how it felt. Our relationship was broken, no more of that father-daughter bond.

Now i'm on the phone with the operator who is trying to keep me calm. While my mom cuts the rope off of my dad's neck. Then I realize the cops, ambulance and family are there. I remember feeling scared and worried. I was worried wondering what would happen to my dad, would they be able to save him. But I was also mad, thinking why would he do this to himself.

My dad's family blaming my mom, that it was her fault. He would be dead if it wasn't for her. If my dad didn't have a drinking problem my mom wouldn't have needed to give him that letter. We could be able to be all together and not have these memories of what has happened.

After that it affected me in school. I went to counseling in second grade. I was scared of my house, scared to be home alone. Horrified that he would return, that he would be angry and hurt us.

Eventually he showed up a few times yelling out on the front lawn, wasted to the point where he could barley stand. Yelling at my mom to let him see us. He would always make me feel bad, like it was my fault. Wanting me to choose a side.

After a while it was the same thing over and over again (I knew what to expect). The happiest times are when he is in jail. I don't have to talk to him. I have nothing to say to him.

Dad, he was not the best person in the world. The dad I thought he would be. But with everything he has done that has hurt me, it only made me stronger. Made me more independent.

Now that I am older I know and understand the reasons for why he did those things. He went and got checked they found that he has mental issues and that is part of the reason why he did what he did. He was an alcoholic too so that didn't help either. He didn't do those things to hurt us on purpose it's just that something was wrong with him and it didn't allow him to think straight.

The worry of telling him how I really feel. The question will always be should I tell him or should I not? What happens if I don't? What happens if I do? Would it change things? At this point I don't know