Dear Dad, I hate you.

I hate that I try to love you despite...I hate that that's all I have to love---the despite. I hate that your words sting worse than anyone elses, and I don't know why. I hate that you make me curl up in a ball and cry myself to sleep. I hate that you have the ability to hurt me. I wish you wouldn't ruin your mind and body with the drugs. I wish you wouldn't lie to me, I wish it didn't make me feel like such an idiot when you do. I wish you knew that I know. I wish I had known sooner. I hate that I can't talk to you about anything real, and I hate that you taught me how to withdraw into my own little world. I hate that my mind is not strong enough to overcome that, and you have ruined many relationships for me. I hate how guilty I feel for blaming you when I know it's my own fault. Mostly, I hate that you screwed up my siblings minds too, and they seem to be struggling more than even me. While our relationships are the most vital, you have made them the most difficult. Dear Dad, I love you. Please forgive me for not having the courage to say any of this to your face. Please forgive me for not trying to save you from the hell you live in because of my fear.

Dear Mom, I hate you.

I hate that you ruined any and all trust I had in people. I hate that it will take many years to get it back. I hate that you were the one I loved above anyone else, and you were the one who let me down most of all. I hate that you won't say you did wrong and admit it was your fault instead of blaming it on diseases. Mom, all we want is for you to say, "I'm sorry," without a "but" tagged on the end. I hate that, at your funeral, I will not cry because of loss of a person, but because of loss of what that person could have been. Dear Mom, I love you. You have the most generous heart I have ever seen. I just wish it didn't seem like you had a completely different heart set aside for your family, the ones who love you. We needed you, Mom.

Dear Becky, I hate you.

I hate that you're just like my real mother, and that you can't even see it. I hate that you lie to yourself and say your children will forgive you in the end. They will hate you, too. I hate that I feel like you chose my dad over your children...because you did. I hate that I want to have a relationship with you, but you make it impossible with lies and the supression of the truth. I hate that you let my dad treat you like he does, and I hate that you say you love him despite. You see, there's only so much despite a person can deal with until they need a little because. Dear Becky, I love you. I wish you knew that every night you and my dad come home late from the bar, I stay up and worry, and I cry, and I pray that someday ya'll will understand. I wish I was brave enough to tell you that Jesus is the only one who can save you from this mess. I wish I could think about anything else on those nights besides the fact that I could have helped. I wish that affected my day-to-day actions and words afterwards.

Dear Trinitie, I hate you.

Why are you such a coward? Why do you believe lies? I hate that you let the unimportant people affect you, which, ironically, causes you to block out those you love, like Tenille, and Dan. You say you want to live, really live, but those are words. Why is there such a fear in your heart? Dear Trinitie, I love you. Let go.

Trinitie