A letter to my daddy…

So I logged into MySpace a little bit ago to check my messages, and I see that I have a new friend request. Well, I have my account set to private, so you MUST know my last name to add me, and you CANNOT see any of my profile information until I approve it. So I was confused. I know that I have my full name on this blog, but seriously, my name is actually a common name, even now that I am married, so if you search for me on MySpace, you’ll probably find tons of people with the same first and last name. Yet, there it was, a friend request. I couldn’t remember actually telling anyone to add me, so I was concerned. I clicked the link to see the request, and there it was, a friend request from the male contributor to my deoxyribonucleic acid! That’s right, the man who RAPED me when I was three years old, the man who molested my older sister, several cousins, and various children of family friends. The message he sent with the friend request said, “How come I never hear from you?” I will not dignify him with a response, but the following is my reply: OH MY GOD DO YOU REALLY WANT TO KNOW THE ANSWER TO THAT QUESTION??? Yes, I continued to visit you as a child because, let’s face it, did I really have a choice in the matter? And yes, I did ATTEMPT to develop a relationship with you when I was a teenager and young adult. How did that turn out? When I lived with you and I was fifteen you threatened to kill me with a butcher knife cause I wasn’t washing the dishes quietly! When I lived with you at twenty I discovered you cared more about your immature child bride and the poor sweet little girl y’all irresponsibly created together than you did about the three children you father in your own youth. And let’s travel back in time, let’s go back to sometime around 1988 when a three year old girl didn’t want to go to bed because she would rather watch McGyver with her daddy. It was her favourite show. Y’all used to watch it together all the time. Do you remember that little girl? Do you remember me, DADDY? Do you remember how you picked me up when you discovered me hiding behind your chair, how you dragged me into the tiny bedroom of our travel trailor out in the Overton, Texas woods, how you threw me on the bed you shared with your wife, my mother, who was at her job busting her ass to keep us fed and clothed? Do you remember ripping my tiny jeans off of my little body? Do you remember shoving your grown man’s penis into my not yet developed body? Do you remember how I screamed “NO DADDY NO” over and over the whole time? I don’t know if what you did to all those other boys and girls was as bad or worse. We never talk about it. We’re all grown now, most of us have children of our own. We’re trying to forget, though the memories haunt us each night. As my little girl grows, I’ll be far too protective of her because I know there are men like you in the world. I won’t even trust my own husband to do the things any normal father can do for his child, because you messed me up. My bladder will ALWAYS leak when I laugh or sneeze. My sex life will ALWAYS suffer. I will always be neurotic. In my formative years, when I was supposed to be learning my ABCs and how to use the potty chair I learned, instead, just how evil men can be. No matter how much I love my husband, I will never trust him because of you, DADDY. Now, do you still wonder why I never call you? Do you still wonder why you will NEVER see your grand child? And guess what, if my big sis has children, you’ll never meet them either. All those cousins who’s lives you ruined, they have kids you’ll never meet. My little brother who is almost twenty may someday have kids and maybe he’ll trust you cause you never ruined his life, but I hope he doesn’t trust you with his children. I hope he realizes what’s at stake. And god forbid I ever find out that you are hurting your new daughter and son like you hurt so many kids back in the eighties and nineties. Cause if I ever find out something happened to either one of them, you can damn sure bet that not only me, but about a DOZEN other people will hunt you down. The supreme court just said that pedophiles don’t deserve the death penalty, but I beg to differ. If I know personally an innocent child that has to go through what I went through back then, I WILL kill the person who did it. Consider this blog my confession in advance. So, no, I WILL NOT accept your friend request on MySpace. I made a mistake trying to befriend you. And now that I have a little girl, there’s one more reason I shouldn’t try to get to know you better. I don’t ever want to have to hear from her that a bad man did bad things to her. I can’t stop every pedophile in the world, but I can prevent some of them from having access to my little girl. Oh, and you can tell your nephew that he, too, will never meet my daughter. If my husband and I ever have any more children, you’ll never meet them either. I honestly think the best thing for your two newest kids would be if your HIV finally wore your body down. I think the pain of having their father die when they’re young is not as bad as the pain of having their father rape and molest them. I think CPS in Texas made a big mistake by not removing them from your home already. I wasn’t the one who called them on you, but I know who did and I think she did the right thing. Anyway, I’m done talking to you now, though you’ll probably never read this. Don’t try to tell me that I need to forgive and forget. I will never forget, there’s no way I can forget. I wish I could… Smile Empty Soul–In the land of dirt and plaster lies an army of a thousand nowhere kids losing ground and falling faster into a life that no one should have to live. We are the people that you hate. We are the bastards that you created, the fucking bastards that you created, a generation with no place, a generation of all your sons and daughters.

View the full blog at heartchasms.blogspot.com and like the blog on Facebook.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s