Dad.

I never understood what that word truly meant. Even the word looks weird to me and saying it feels strange.

At three years old I left “home” and my “dad”. I never knew why until I was older, what I was truly leaving.

I was born into a broken family. My mother was loving and my father was selfish.

She was always at every soccer game and a heart full of love and kisses.

At six years old, I saw you use people as objects.

I remember leaving to go back home as I saw my step-mom cry and she begged you to stay while she was holding my one year old sister in her arms. 

After everything I have been through, nothing else has haunted me more than watching her cry.

The pain in her voice and desperation in her eyes as you slammed the door in her face.

As a child I still praised you as the best dad ever, watching others doubt my words.

I never understood why.

Dad.

Saying it feels strange.

When I began high school, your true colors came out and it broke any “relationship” we had.

I watched you start a new family and treat my step brothers as your own.

The feeling of being forgotten filled my blood and pumped through my veins,

and nothing remained of what my heart contained.

I felt I was the daughter who lived in another state that everyone forgot about. 

Even you forgot.

You created a knot in my heart that can never be untied.

The feeling of not being enough or not being the daughter you wanted me to be.

I know that I am not the daughter you dreamed of but I never thought you would want nothing to do with me.

Daddy’s little girl. Wasn’t that your first tattoo? My baby picture on your arm? Wasn’t I your first? Then why do you treat me like an outcast? 

So many questions run through my head.

You say you love me but you never show it or come to birthday parties or family events.

You have never shown your love. Maybe to the world but not to me. Your first.

Because of you, I am a woman of wounds and always will be.

I have died so many times in my life and I took a knife to my wrist to end the strife brought to me.

I am a woman who is almost an adult and a father figure is not needed in my life.

I don’t need a man who pretends to care when he was never there.

I don’t need your sympathy.

I don’t need you to “catch up” and make up for it.

I don’t need you.

I may have your last name but you have none of me.

And now as your new life crumbles you reach your hand out for me.

Divorce and court dates pile up and your ring lays hidden in a drawer.

Should I extend my hand and offer forgiveness of your past? 

The feeling of being forgotten is not easily dismissed.

Only your future actions can answer this question. 

If I give you this second chance, how will it end?

I just hope you don’t let me down…

Again.