Dear S,

I know you’re going through a hard time right now. You take drugs just to help you open up so that you can talk to your family and try to sort things out. You drink to forget and I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve had to pull you in from the window while you yell at me that you want to die. After I’ll put you to bed and lie with you while you fall asleep in my arms crying. In the morning you never remember because you always drink so much but you tell me that you think about ending your life regularly and it scares me.

Last night you told me you are afraid that I will leave, I told you that I’m not leaving. My dear, I love you so much and you don’t realise that you do so much for me as well.

You hold my hand as I go out into the world. I will not leave you to sail a rough sea on a raft when there are sturdier ships to sail the sea with.

Your girlfriend who loves you so very much.

My girlfriend is telling me all the things we’re going to do when I visit and she just paused and said ‘I can’t wait to show you Wendy’s.’ 


I’ve never had much confidence in your parenting. You have four children, and so far I don’t see any of them completely healthy and ready for the world.
The eldest avoids us a lot, and has the same temper as you.
The second, me - well there’s a lot I could say there.
The third, has anger problems and hates you and your wife.
The fourth is a bully and I’m worried she won’t grow out of it.
The fifth was doing ok for a while, but I guess it was only a matter of time, with your fourth child as a role model.

I know you think that by teaching us obedience, you’re teaching us your morals. That’s not true. You never explain why we have to do things, just that we do. Your children would do as they were told even knowing that the motive was suspicious, because you taught them to.

You taught them that if you don’t get caught, you don’t get punished. But you also taught them, that if you do get caught, there’s Hell to pay.

You taught me, especially, that who I am is not good enough. I’m not the perfect little A*, Christian cis girl with a boyfriend who plans on waiting.
I turned out very different.
And maybe the reason I hate school so much, is because I know that if I don’t get the grades you want, I have to face your disappointment.
I wish I could stop caring, but I can’t.
And I wish it wasn’t true that our mother would’ve done a better job raising us.
You kind of messed us all up.
It might be harsh, and you’re still my dad, but you did a pretty shitty job.

The second.