#I'd make love to it if not for the fact that it'd turn my penis into a fine mist

[susanmyaltername-blog]

Written a decade ago...

> --------------------------- > Dear Dad, > God, it sickens me to even see myself write dear and Dad next to   > each other. You were never dear. And that's pitiful. How could you   > do all that you did and not know how wrong it all was? > > I can tell myself that the crazy shit in my head in the last few   > years is all made up. In fact, I do it ALL OF THE TIME.  I spend so   > much energy denying. But so many behaviors I have make little sense   > if not for connecting to my crazy memories. Why can I picture your   > penis?  So, I'm going to safely, and briefly go past my bullshit   > denial and let the little girl who remains hidden in the corner,   > crouching and hiding from everything, the one who hates only herself   > come out. She needs to finally tell you how much she hurts. She   > needs to tell you how much that hurt has held her from moving   > anywhere but that corner. She needs to tell you how she couldn't   > figure out what to do with the hurt, the pain, the confusion, the   > shame, the worthlessness, the alone feeling, and the sense of   > abandonment. How she turned it on herself all of these years. She   > has learned to emotionally detach from everything and live in a   > nether world. > > I like to call it living in a green balloon. God knows why, but   > there it is. Whenever it gets too tough for me, off I go to the safe   > haven of my green balloon. It resides just in the top corner of   > whatever room I'm currently in. My dr these days says that emotional   > detachment may have worked as a child but not now. The trauma is   > over and not happening now. I can suspense with my green balloon.   > Well, fuck you for making me have to create such a thing to begin   > with!  I remember being able to tolerate what you did to me to an   > extent. But soon, I'd feel an emotional cracking and it'd get too   > much for me. I could go to my green balloon. Sadly though, I   > couldn't remain there, and after you or you and your "friends" would   > leave, I'd be left with myself. A horrible, despicable, nasty,   > painful place to me. Thanks for abusing me and treating me like some   > disposable ragdoll. I was your daughter. Your flesh and blood!!!!!   > Why did you have children?!  Three of us!!!!  You knew you had   > sexual issues before you had us!  You didn't have one piece of   > respect or love for any of us.  When I think of you, I think of:   > gross, smelly, scary, being too close to me, being sexual with me. > > I don't deserve all of this hatred and shame I feel on a daily   > basis. I don't deserve to hate looking in the mirror. I don't   > deserve wanting to cut myself, kill  myself.  I don't deserve all of   > the mind fuck reminders of you and all of the evil things you did to   > me. > > I deserve better. > > I can't say you are fucking god awful son of a bitch and I hope you   > rot in hell. > > I'm working on that though.