To the person who made it quick to note that you weren't comfortable with the fact that I never brought up my father on the first day we met, saying that a girl without a father figure is "dangerous" to associate with:

You're right. I am dangerous.

Because my family does not follow the ideal Christian standard of mommy and daddy holding hands and kissing and loving each other forever and ever, instead falling victim to the vicious demon known as "divorce," we are in fact a very tainted branch of the human race. On behalf of us all, I apologize to you and your picturesque family.

You, in contrast, have a beautiful family, along with a beautiful home. A loving husband, two children, (a boy and a girl, both of which are thriving in college,) a cat, a dog, and most likely a white-picket fence around your freshly mowed lawn. Church on Sunday. Dinner together on weekdays. Maybe even a friendly game night.

My family was never like that.

From as far back as I remember, my parents fought daily. Sometimes in front of me, and sometimes behind closed doors and muffled screaming. By the time I turned ten, my father had already packed his bags and left to go live out in the middle of the country, while I stayed with my mother in the city; I would go out to visit him on weekends.

Sometimes, my mom and I would also butt heads. I would get so angry with her and the fact that she was always tired after working up to seven days a week designing hospitals; she had no time to do anything else besides recovering from countless hours in front of a computer in the hopes of getting by.

From this, I started learning how to be more independent. I had my own job with my own income, worked on several personal projects, and began developing my career path, which will lead me far out of this country, let alone this state. All this while juggling the diagnosis of clinical depression and winning in the end.

So you're right. I am VERY dangerous.

As the years of self-hardening went by, I wanted my mom to grow stronger too. But it was hard for her when I still visited my dad on the weekends. When he dropped me off on Sundays, they would still argue. She never got over that pain because it was so massive when she saw his face, when she knew that I still adored him like a hero.

It wasn't until this past year when I realized why.

My father never paid for anything. Child support, my tuition, my clothes, any of my medical bills; nothing, if not bare minimum. Instead, right before he left our house, he stole money from my mom by going to Harris Teeter, using her card when checking out, and withdrawing money from her account as he was paying upfront.

He did this so he could save enough to move out and live comfortably. Currently, he has a new wife and they're having a child together, who will be born by early next year; I got the news before my eighteenth birthday. Meanwhile, my mom has been working her ASS off to get me here; she always has, even when his family began cashing in on my "Gerber Life College Fund."

I wonder if you've ever known what it's like to not only be replaced, but to feel this sense that you're always doing something wrong. My father would always tell me that I had no common sense, that I was an idiot, that I was nothing without him in my life even when he did nothing in it. He would try calling me when I blocked him, and drive up here when he knew that I was making my escape from him. "Zoe, why don't you want to come see me more? Don't you know how much I care about you? You hurt my feelings, and you've been such a horrible girl lately."

On my birthday, he wrote me a letter with an ultimatum: either I keep him in my life, or he was going to walk out a week after the letter was sent.

We haven't talked since.

When the calls and the letters and the feelings of uneasiness, rejection, and anxiety stopped, I was finally able to reflect. My mother and I have never been closer after I realized that she was the true parent, nearly giving her life so I could live mine; she's the strongest person I've ever known. And my father?

All I hope now is that he doesn't make the same mistakes.

In conclusion, person that will never approve of the fact that I'm part of a family that apparently wrecks your very core, I don't want your acceptance.

I just want you to accept the fact that I'm happy, and that you're right.

I am very, very dangerous.

-Zoe