Hello again.

Hello Father.

It seems you're always with me in some way or another. Everywhere I turn there's something to do with you, everything I see can be related to you in one way or another, at least you're there in that way I guess. But.. sometimes it's not always good, sometimes I'd rather you not be there if I have to be honest.

I don't remember much of you to be frank- I mean could you blame me? We only had 10 years at most and yeah I guess you could say that's more time then others have had with their fathers but I still don't remember much of you. Maybe it's because all the bad that's happened that makes me forget things, the trauma in my brain that my mind is protecting me from, or simply the fact that you might've never been there.

I do remember some, the little parts of us. Two of my favorite memories of us are good and happy and they are what I think of first when I think of you and me but then it goes downhill from there, those happy moments that I cling onto are drowned out with all those horrible memories. I don't even know what's real or fake anymore, I want to believe all these horrible moments aren't real but at the same time I know it in my heart that it's real.

I remember the violence, the yelling, the anger, the alcohol, the drugs. I remember the bruises, the fights, the damage, the police. I remember the crying, the screaming, the hiding, the fear. I don't remember it all and thank god for that but Father.. 

I remember enough to know that it was real and that was truly you at your heart, sometimes I like to think it wasn't you, it was the alcohol, the drugs, your messed up childhood, your horrible way of being raised but at the same time I know you had opportunities to get better, I know you had a chance at a good life and you were the one who didn't take it.

Ever since we left I've promised myself I won't be around that life anymore. No more violence, no more pain, no more fear, no more yelling, no more trauma. I don't wanna deal with that anymore, I don't want that to be my life, I don't want that to define me as a person, I don't want it.

I will admit I was a little bit scared after the fact, I was a broken child left with painful memories, I thought that was how life was supposed to be, I thought that's how men were supposed to be. So when I was touched I thought that was normal, so when my brother started hitting me after I thought that was normal, so when the yelling and arguing continued I thought that was normal, so when all those crude comments started I thought that was normal. It didn't feel right, in fact I hated it, I hated it so much I begged for it all to stop but I thought it was normal- it isn't.

Now that I know that I won't let it happen again. I don't care who it is. Never in my life will I let myself be that scared little girl, the one who feared to fight back- feared to speak back. I will never let anyone yell at me like that again, I will never let anyone scream at me like that again, I will never let anyone hit me like that again, I will never let anyone touch me like that again, I will never let anyone speak about me like that again, I will never let that happen to me again.

So thank you Father, thank you for teaching me exactly who to stay away from, thank you for teaching me what isn't normal, thank you for that lovely birthday gift of violence our last year together. Happy birthday to me Father.