Dear fucking dad, you do realise that I am not fucking Superman, right? You understand that I'm not perfect? Because lately it seems like you are just trying to make me hate you and then start gaslighting me, saying I'm in the wrong. I'm not going to even bother writing this as a poem. This is my rant letter because you took my phone for struggling in ONE CLASS. I don't understand why every day I wake up and I'm like, 'you know what? maybe he's gonna be a decent guy today,' and every day I get met with the same narcissistic asshole from yesterday that is you. You make me think that there is something wrong with me, and yeah, there probably is, but there are more things wrong with the way you treat your own children. Take Veronica, for example. My sister. Your daughter. Do you realize that she's a human being and not someone you can throw around like a ragdoll and expect not to get one of its limbs ripped off? You don't understand why she used to cut or why I (to the extent of your knowledge) used to take an eraser to my skin. You love your pity parties and then get surprised when only your wife shows up to light the candles for you. Crazy how your actions have consequences. Even though I do half the shit you do, like lie or gaslight, oh wait, that last one's actually just you. Nonetheless, you make me want to rip my hair from my scalp, and if I have to listen to you play the victim one more time, I just might. I don't think you understand just how much I hoped you would change. Every day I woke up praying that everything would just magically fix itself, but alas it never did. So you don't have to show me again. You shattered the very last fragment of trust and faith I had in you. Stomped on it, actually. All because your ego is too big to leave room for things like morals or common fucking sense. I cannot wait to see your reaction when you read these letters because that will be a moment I cherish forever. Just because you take me on nice trips, or give me nice things, does not give you the right to treat me like shit. You do all these things and then wonder why I have all this shit wrong with me. You caused my depression, you caused my $H, you caused my anxiety, you caused me to not be able to communicate my emotions, you caused me to hate myself, and you can't blame that on anyone but yourself. So I hope you have the shittiest life ever.
SINCERELY YOUR NOT SO PERFECT DAUGHTER BITCH
