Dear... Dad or I guess "hey you",
I know we never actually knew I was your daughter until I was four, but you always told me deep down you did know. Why didn't you step up if you truly knew?
When we did the DNA test, I honestly was a scared little girl through it all. I only knew you from the parties my mom, uncle, and aunt always through in our trailer (I was indeed the party baby, surrounded by drunks), but I'd never met your family.. they were scary and unfamiliar. Soon, I came to like your family... and you.
The only problem was, were and are an alcoholic. You were always getting arrested for DUI's and your apartments were always being taken and all my toys, locked away in a storage cell the police had given you. All my cherished childhood toys and memories, gone. Never seen again.
As I got older, I noticed the toll the alcohol was taking on you. When I stayed with you on weekends, you always slept because you were too drunk to be awake. I was left alone, for hours on end playing brutal video games. Which, soon I burned the image into your TV screen from playing too long. I felt like I wasn't there to be with you, I felt like I was there to train for war and to bring you beers from the basement every half an hour or so.
Once I hit 11, I hated you. I wanted nothing to do with you. To me, you were nothing but an alcoholic druggie. All because you had me so excited to visit you that weekend, we had huge and fun plans... but you never even came to get me.
I lost all respect for you. I didn't even want you to have visitation rights. Which, never happened but I still stopped visiting you out of my own choice. I still visited your family every weekend because I love them. They seen me more in my whole lifetime than you ever did. And honestly, that's pretty sad.
Once, I remember being at Grandma's and we woke up to a phone call. You were beyond drunk and you were stuck on the train tracks in your car. I remember her coming home saying you barely made it out and that a train came, hit your car but not you. I was in so many tears that night. I was scared it would happen again, but next time you'd be gone...
Now, here I am, 17 years old and haven't stayed the weekend or any nights with you since I was 11. The only time I've seen you is over the holidays and all you do is ignore me and hand me money. The most I normally get is a "Merry Christmas" or a "Happy Birthday"
And I'll be quite frank, you have sobered up and you're doing well. You don't have a place to live yet, but you're saving your money and you're not drinking anymore. We have had small conversations and had some laughs when I stayed at Grandpas with you a few weeks ago, but I don't see us getting any more closer than that.
Despite all my bottled up hatred for you (but yet, sadness that I kinda miss you) I'm really proud of how far you've come and I hope you can keep it that way and I beg you to. I may not like you, but I still want the best for you... because you're my dad.
