I Deserved A Seat At Your Table

 An open letter to my father, since nobody reads these anyway.

That's right. I deserved a seat - at my own family's table, that I didn't get, and probably never will have.

That's all I wanted, love without conditions, acceptance, and your time. 

I didn't want your fucking money. That's the only thing you seemed to know how to do, was throw money my way, like crumbs, and expect everything to be ok.

No.

It's not okay. 

Money doesn't solve everything. It doesn't take the place of all the times I just wanted to hang out with you, and be your daughter. It doesn't solve the days and nights I've spent crying, wondering what I ever did wrong to deserve such a deadbeat for a father. Money doesn't replace the time lost. 

You left me before I was even born. Did I deserve that? Absolutely not. I was an unborn child about to arrive into a world that I now feel was meant to fail me in every way. I spent the first 10 years of my life not knowing you. Why didn't you fight harder to be in my life in those years? Why am I even wasting my time writing this fucking letter? Right, I'm writing this for me, not you. 

This will be my third, and final letter I write to you. I gave you the first two letters, in handwriting, but I won't be handing you this one. You don't deserve it. You never will. You're just an old man set in his ways. An old man who will never, ever change. 

I'm sick of having to express myself to you in letters, I shouldn't have to. You should show me the love and care that I need, without having to ask. 

But who am I kidding, you had a girlfriend who couldn't stand living with you so she had to move out. You don't know what love is, so how can I ever expect you to be any different?

This time I'm done.