Hey.
I have wanted to write this letter for a long time now; for as long as I can remember, actually. I never knew how to start it or even if I should write this. But here it goes.
Dear Dad,
How have you been? I haven’t really talked to you in a while… well I mean I have talked to you, but not about anything really important. Conversations with you are hard. Talking to you is hard. Seeing you is hard. You’re not the dad I remember. You’re not who you used to be.
I used to look up to you. I saw you as someone who was strong, independent, and hard working. Now all I see is someone consumed by alcohol. I see the façade you try to put up. I see you taking swigs of God knows what just to get through the day. I see you chasing your drinks with more alcohol just to numb out the pain of the world. I see you.
I hear you saying how proud you are of me and loving the fact that we’re just so alike. I hear you calling Mom and me awful names that you won’t remember in the morning. I hear you bashing my religion and my desire to get baptized. I hear you calling it a joke. I hear it all, Dad. I hear it all.
I smell the stench of smoke and vodka as you stumble into the house at all hours of the morning. I smell the dog shit that fills the garage, the place where you spend more time than with your family. I smell the beer on your breath as you lean in to tell me not to tell mom. I smell the stench of body odor as you push past me, too drunk to stand up in the shower. I smell it.
I taste the words that I hold back as you make your problems mine. I taste regret of being your daughter that has consumed my every thought. I taste the tears that fall from my eyes, focusing solely on what I could have done to help you. I taste the vomit that comes up my throat every time I think about taking even a sip of alcohol. I taste it all.
I feel you trying to connect with me on some different levels. I feel us drifting further apart. I feel your pain of depression. I feel it—but we treat our diagnoses in very different ways. I feel alone in this world because, somehow, finding your next drink became more important than getting to know your only daughter, your only child. I feel it all, Dad. You may not think I feel it, but I do.
I hardly know you anymore. I don’t know you anymore. You scream about how I always side with Mom, but what else am I supposed to do? They say that the only man a girl can really trust is her daddy. But what does that mean for me? You constantly criticize what I need to do or how I can be better, but what about you? I was always there for you, but one day you’re going to look up from your empty bottle and realize that I have moved on with my life.
I’m sorry. But I can’t be held back anymore.
Love,
Your Daughter Some Girl You Used To Know
