A Letter to You (Part 2)

Hello Again Daddy,

I sit again, wanting you to understand but knowing that you won’t. You see, you never did hear me. You never took the time to listen. You spoke, screamed, cussed, accused, and cried, but I was never even allowed to whisper. Do you even know who I am? Do you know my passions? My fears? My favorite color? I don’t think you do because you stopped listening long before I stopped talking.

You post on Facebook that you love me. Tell old friends that you miss me. Brag to family members that you are proud of me. However, it is impossible. You cannot love me, you cannot miss me, and you cannot be proud of me. I am not yours to love, miss, or take pride in. Do you remember what you told me when I called to tell you that I had forgiven you, that I wanted to try to be a daddy and daughter again? Do you? I know I do.

It’s hard to forget the moment I knew I would never have a Daddy again. The moment you told me that it was about time I “forgave” you, reminding me that, in your eyes, I was still to blame.

Here’s what I have to say. One final word to you, my daddy. I still forgive you, but it does not mean that what you have done and continue to do is okay. Because it is not. And, it does not mean that you are welcome back into my life. You missed that chance. I am more than fine without you. That is something you will have to live with. I am sorry that I am not who you wanted me to be.

With sadness,

Your Daughter

Homesick

I have never been one to get homesick.

Well, never until now. This year I have become homesick. Really, this semester, I have become homesick. So homesick that I go home to my mom and cry when I have to leave. I shirk responsibilities and cancel plans to go home. I make up reasons to justify my coming home. Once I’m home, I don’t want to leave.

Today I was leaving home and turned around and came back. I wasn’t ready to leave. I won’t be ready tomorrow either, but at least I have one more day here.

I don’t know why I’m so homesick. I just miss my mom. A lot. She makes me feel less anxious. She makes me feel at home. This hasn’t always been the case, but now it is. I love her and value time we spend together. I don’t want out time together to end. I just want to be with her. I just want to feel at home.

I hate feeling homesick. But, I am loving being home with my mom. I miss her so much when I’m gone. It hurts.

I don’t feel at home in my apartment. I hate spending time there. But, I enjoy spending time at home. I feel loved. I feel wanted. I feel free of anxiety.

I just want to be home.