Google defines father as: "a man in relation to his natural child or children." That term can be used for more than just somebody's biological father. It can really be used or anybody who has taken on the role as a father figure in one's life. For me, my biological father was never a father to me. And before I start speaking on this, if he or anyone who knows him reads this, this is not a hate article about him. I do not hate him, I just have waited to long to get this off my chest. Years too long.

When I was about seventeen years old, which wasn't long ago at all, I was having a conversation with someone on my biological father's side of the family. As usual, they sparked up the question, "Well, why don't you go see your dad and grandparents anymore?" And by this time, I hadn't gone over there in around 5 months, so it had gotten around. Though I can really tell that I was never essentially "wanted" over there by my father, he always seemed to make it a big deal if I didn't let him know that I was not coming over for some reason. But to answer that question, I told them that "At this point, he is nothing more than just my sperm donor. He is not my father." And of course, with them being on his side of the family, I got an odd look and a sly remark. But I wasn't going to come up with some lie to cover up what I've tried to get across for years, years, and years.

Now, I wasn't just some angsty teenager with a hate for her parents. I didn't hate my 'father', I just didn't claim him, which is exactly what he did in return for me. I was never shown off as his daughter unless I gained an achievement. The only time I really felt like his true daughter was when I got to be on TV, on the news, on a main segment. I remember he was sharing it on his Facebook page, and saying "Make sure you go watch my daughter!.." and what not. I felt like he had changed then. That maybe, instead of treating his nephews as his sons, and out casting me as if he didn't know me, that maybe he was realizing that he was breaking my heart. But years later I realized that if it did not benefit him, then it was like I wasn't even there. I sat back for so many years, watching him interact with his nephews, my cousins, as if they were his own children. I watched him interact with his 2 or 3 girlfriends and their kids as if they were his own.

I hated to see that, but what was a 14 year old going to say to their own blood father that would open his eyes? Especially me. because God was he stubborn. That is definitely where I get that trait from. If it wasn't going his way, or if you said something barely out of line, or if you were being extra, he probably showed a discerning look at you or just ignored you completely. It was like I was some refugee that had gotten picked up just for looks. Like if someone came in to do a report of them, he could use me as a cover like, "But look! I care for kids! I have my own here!" But as soon as they would leave, I'd be shut up until the next time.

In the years that I spent there, always the last to get whatever, many thoughts flew through my mind. Things that I could never say in person, because of my own good heart. I knew that if I said them, and even if I got no reaction from him, I'd still go home and beat myself up for it, even if it was true. I wrote letter after letter, explaining everything I wanted to say. I even had it in the envelopes ready to be mailed, several times, but I always had a little "bug" pulsing at me, telling me not to do it. I was afraid of him, in all honestly. Not the bug, but my father. He was manipulative. He could take what I would say and take it out of context, and make it look like I was the bad person. That would turn everyone else in the family against me, and I didn't want that. I like everyone else. I felt like real family to them, but I knew he had that power to do that.

I knew that the things I had in my letter were things that he probably wanted to hear. He would probably laugh at them, because it was probably a sign that he had finally gotten to me. That he had won.

That "bug" that sat in the back of my head told me things like, "He never wanted me," "He doesn't care about you," "He would be so much better in life without you being there to harass him," And it got to me. I cried myself to sleep some nights, because I just wanted to know what it felt like to be loved by my biological father.

I mean, I have a step father who has stepped up and taken his spot, and I am so glad he has, but it's always in the back of my mind. My step father, who I just plain call my dad, has gotten me to this point in life, and I know that it would probably be a complete 180 degree difference if my biological father was here instead. But it is always there, all the time. I always think about how it would be. But there isn't anything that I can do, especially now, to change how my biological father feels, or felt, about me. Even though it hurts, I am still glad about how things have turned out.