Dear First "Man" I Loved,

For years, I tried everything in my power to be everything you wanted. Yet multiple times, I fell short of those expectations. I was young. We all make mistakes, don't we? At least you told me I was one of yours.

For a long time to come, I had resented you for picking other women over myself. Sadly, since I've known better and looking back on the past, I have always known that I wasn't right for you. You did not pick me, nor did I pick you, but things happened as they did. Most of my problem is not the violent outbursts I had caused you to have over the years. The problem stemmed from despite blaming you for my brokenness, I still find you popping into my thoughts every day. I bad mouthed you on a regular basis, but I wonder if you think about me and think that maybe, for once, you made the mistake. But giving you that credit would almost be too much.

I have not yet been able to fully trust anyone. I wouldn't open up to you like you wished and that made you angry. You had missed so much. Even when I was with you, I didn't feel the need to tell you of such things that you had missed. When I would try to speak to you, you did not show much interest in what I had to say. Many times over the years we had known each other, you had confessed that you missed seeing what my life was about. Yet you never really made an effort to see.

I struggle daily with wondering why the first man I loved was the reason behind all of my pain. A father is supposed to help his children grow. Yet, you skipped out on your first born to raise one that was not yours and two other children that were. I have always felt jealousy towards those that you value more than myself. I have made mistakes and I've always known that even when you seemed to "look past them" finally, you never had. As you reminded me of the "reputation" I made for myself. Just remember, I had always looked up to you. I just simply followed in your footsteps. Maybe at some point, I thought that would make you proud of me. I always tried to look past the actual past we had and tried moving towards the future. When someone compared me to a mother, for years I would tell them, "No, I am a spitting image of my father."

Now that I am older and wiser beyond my years, I realize that being your spitting image would be a disgrace. I have found you in other "men" and I would always wonder why the pain was magnified as horribly as it was. Recently I just came to the conclusion that you are entirely the reason why I endure so much self-hatred. As you made me horrified to trust and not believe the nice compliments. You would get mad when I called myself ugly yet make fun of my imperfections. How am I to believe anything anyone says when my own father contradicts himself about me? How can I accept compliments when the hurtful words you have said still stick in my brain?

I don't expect people to stay, father. Because you have abandoned me so many times, which seems to have set a downward spiral for the rest of my life as everyone else I love has left as well. Your harsh words, they will always be the last thing you said to me. And I will never forgive you for opening my life to what it has become.

But the saddest part of this all, is that I should hate you. But I don't. I don't hate you one bit. I don't even blame you for what you said and called me. I just wish I could've hugged you one more time before you became dead to me. Because there is only one thing worse than a parent dying, that is a parent being alive and not loving you.

Love,

The One You Never Loved