You never really knew what it was like to do the workaday things that a parents does. Sure, you sent us money. You saw us every-second-weekend-and-half-the-holidays. Thats what every dad does, when he isn't really a dad, right?

But Dad, does every father sleep through those token visits they get with their children? Does every father take their children home early, because they just can't cope? Does every dad take their children back to the house, and the person, they know their daughter was raped by? Does every father walk in on one of those sessions of torment that she so want to forget, and later say 'I don't believe it happened, sorry.'? Sory comes later, much later, when she wont talk to you. When she moves out of home at the age of 14 because she can't tell her mommy about the torment that is living inside her head and wouldn't trust her daddy to look after a dog, let alone a child. Sorry comes when you see her lying in starch-white hospital sheets, being kept alive by a respirator because her body has, just, given up. Do you know what it is like, daddy, to feel perpetually sad, eternally awful, to the point that death becomes preferrable?

Of course you don't. I know that, because you asked me why. 'Why would you do such a thing'? You should have known. You say you understand me, but if you understood in the slightest, you wouldn't deny that the reason for so much torment even existed, you would know what it feels like to need death as an escape, not because of a tradgedy that seems unbearable, not because of a dramatic situation over which one feels no control, but just because the sadness has gotten too much. Because you need it to stop, right now, damnit. Because a minute longer of living inside this person that you hate so terribly will send you crazy. When you understand that, you will understand me.

I survived that time Daddy. The doctors yanked me back into life, when I was so close to that eternal nothingness. It's been two years now. People think that I am doing so well, but they have been fooled. I don't know how much longer it's going to last, because every time I seem to fine my feet, I simply lose them again. I have come to accept that this is not an episode, this is not going to go away. It's been 6 years now, and the little girl that I once was, the one that was so full of promise, is gone, and she is never coming back.

I just want you to know, Daddy, that by denying that it ever happened, you've denied me. Whatever peice of a father that I had in you, dissapeared when you said those four words: I don't believe you. I just wanted to tell you that I will not be your daughter anymore. I refuse to play this stupid game of pretend.

So there Daddy, so fucking there.