I hate everything about you right now. I hate how comfortable and happy you are. I hate that you have no physical pain. I hate that you went back to normal after I told you something you did that completely altered my life. Something you remember doing. I hate how little power I have over everything and how Dad trusts and respects you still. It feels like a betrayal every time Dad talks to you like he doesn’t know what you did. He talks to me about you casually like I want to hear a damn thing. I don’t want to think about you or see you or have anything to do with you. I want you to leave me the Hell alone and to actually feel the weight of what you did to me. I want you to acknowledge how fucked up you are for looking at me like you did. I was a kid and you used me. Somehow that wasn’t suppose to affect me I guess. Somehow I was suppose to turn out normal. How the Hell could I be normal? Why didn’t you ever talk to me if it really weighed on you when you were younger like you said it did? Why didn’t Dad ever talk to me after you told him? You never once thought that maybe that was why I was so serious and reserved as a kid? It never crossed your mind that maybe that’s why I slept with a girl? You never thought of talking to me when you found out I was taking anti depressants and you had the nerve to question me going to therapy when it’s your own fucking fault I go. When I told you “You have no idea how bad things have gotten” you didn’t wonder? How dare you have an opinion about what I should be doing for my health. You don’t get a say anymore. How could I grow up trusting anyone after that? You want to tell me I’m guarded and act tough or that I’m rough around the edges. You better believe I am. Your the reason I can’t look at a child without looking for signs that they’re being hurt. I’m constantly on guard. You think I want to be thinking about something that terrible happening to one of them every time I see them? You’ll never take the blame and that makes me so angry. I’m angry that you’ve ruined our relationship. Even before I confronted you I thought about it often. When we’re alone or working together or at random times I would think about it wondering if you were too. I always pushed it away and blamed myself for thinking about it. I blamed myself for thinking “What if?”. What if you tried to touch me again? What if you did something and threatened me and I had to pretend even more than I already do? I’m realizing there was part of me that was scared to be alone with you. Then I get angry at myself for thinking any of it. I blamed myself for being screwed up enough to let those thoughts into my brain. I would push them away and tell myself to stop. It made me feel dirty and I hated myself for that cuz obviously you had forgotten. Turns out you didn’t forget. Maybe you were thinking about it too just like I was. After everything, I still feel guilty and think I must have deserved it. Maybe not the actual event but the aftermath of it. Maybe I’m just blaming you when really it’s all from sleeping with that girl or drinking too much or whatever else it could be. Maybe I’m just beyond help and the situation feels impossible because I’m impossible to help. I think I’m pretty angry but I think I’m also really sad which is painful to say cuz it means I care. Life could have been so much simpler. Now every time you talk it makes me angry. Your total hypocrites. You talk all this religious BS but I’m sitting right in front of you going thru Hell and you don’t care enough to see me or to sit with me and feel uncomfortable. You’ve made everything so confusing. Part of me knows that you care about me but part of me can’t trust you or believe what you say and you made it that way. I actually thought you were good guys but it turns out your just like the rest of them. Every time I see it or get the glue we use at work on my hands I think of you because it reminds me how it felt when you touched me. You think i want to be thinking about that? I never want to think about what happened again. I hate that I remember. How could I ever trust you fully knowing what you did and what you were thinking when you did it? My whole childhood is ruined. Not like it was much to look at before but at least I could pretend. I could pretend it only happened once and it was so long ago you don’t remember. What do you think when Mom turns on old family footage? All your talk about how happy and outgoing I used to be and how that was the real me and then acting like I did something along the way to mess it all up. I fucking hate your guts for putting the blame on me. It just makes me so angry that you’ve put me in such an impossible situation. If I moved away or offed myself, I would get blamed. Your kids wouldn’t trust me anymore because you would feed them some lie about me instead of telling them the truth. That it was your fault. Sometimes I wish I had moved away a long time ago so I didn’t love your kids like I do. I’m not gona be the reason they know pain. You tell me that you looked at me sexually as a kid and then expect everything to go back to how it was. I don’t know how to do that or how to just be ok. Whenever your around I feel like I need to cover myself with a shield so you can’t see me or look at me like that. My chest feels heavy and like everything’s moving around inside. It’s like the angers gona bubble over. Because we don’t talk about it and everything went back to normal for everyone but me, I feel like I’m having to follow your lead to survive. If Dad is gona talk to me like he did before he knew and bring you guys up casually in a conversation then I guess I’m suppose to be fine and the fact that I’m not is weird. I’m sitting in my room crying watching the music video to “Till It Happens To You” and then I’m suppose to go to church and pretend like nothing’s wrong. I walk down stairs in a dress and I feel like Dad’s undressing me in his mind. I don’t really think he is but how do i know. It makes me feel disgusting and gross. It’s like everyone else moved on and I’m stuck. I feel more alone than I did before which I didn’t know was possible. What’s funny is, if I were to lose it and say how I’ve been thinking about it or whatever, Dad would probably say of course he thinks about it too and how I should be talking to him. How about you talk to me? How about don’t make it about you when it’s not. If you want me to talk to you, make it easier. Stop blaming me that I don’t feel like I can come to you when I need help. Show you care and take the time to really stop and listen. Don’t tell me to “get to the point”. I’m sick of other people telling me you have alot going on and that’s why you react or are short with people. I have a lot going on too if you would just notice. How could you tell me that I possibly am to blame for some of what happened? You saying that maybe I need forgiveness for some of it really hurt and pissed me off. How could you say that? Would you tell one of your 10 year old grandkids that it was their fault? Maybe instead of making me feel like shit for not coming to you earlier, you should think about why I never felt like I could. How can I tell someone something so big and then get nothing in return? Does Dad really think that just cuz someone says sorry, that its all better? I can tell you from experience that it fucking isn’t all better. I’m so hurt and confused and completely alone. I see no way out. The deeper I go into all of this, the worse I feel and the more impossible it seems that things could ever get better. I feel better after getting all this out but I also feel guilty for saying it all.