The Remains of a Poet

Dear Dad,

I’m turning twenty in two weeks, and it’s putting a lot of things in perspective for me. I know we haven’t spoken in five-and-a-half years, and I know you never had a clue who I was even when we were talking, so I thought I’d tell you a little about myself and who I’ve become over the last twenty years.

I’m graduating from college next May. I’m actually genuinely terrified, which is strange. I’m not really one of those people who was meant to sit in a classroom –– my imagination is too active –– but it’s been the only constant in my life for the past fifteen years, so to have that all end is a pretty terrifying prospect, especially since it’ll mean I’ll pretty “officially” be an adult. This is who the almost adult me is:

I like to think you’d be happy to know I am and always have been a genuinely good kid. I don’t drink, I don’t smoke, I don’t do drugs, I don’t have sex, I don’t cut, and I don’t have an eating disorder. I pay for all my own groceries at school, and I’ve never gotten below a B in any of my classes. Mom thinks I spend too much time on my computer, but if that’s the worst thing she can say about me, I think I’m doing pretty good.

I’ve never had a boyfriend, and my whole life my friends have always been prettier than I am. I’ve gotten to a point in my life where I can accept that, though. I’m never going to be gorgeous, but I’m not ugly either, and it’s not like it’s my ambition to be a model or something, so I’m not beating myself up about it. Beauty isn’t just physical anyway, which is one of those dumb things everyone says, but I actually get it now. As for being single, it’s awesome more often than it sucks. Sometimes I get jealous of what my friends have with their boyfriends, but it’s not very often. I have amazing friends, so it’s not like I’m lonely, and my sense of self isn’t wrapped up in another person. I’m happy I’m an independent individual.

Mom told me once that she hoped one day I’d talk to you again, just briefly, to say thank you. I blew her off then, because I couldn’t imagine what I would want to thank you for, but I do want to thank you for something now. I know it wasn’t your intention and you might not like being thanked for it, but you did it and I am genuinely grateful you did, so here goes:

Thank you for never being there for me. Thank you for never protecting me. Thank you for never supporting me. Thank you for never teaching me to do anything. Thank you for never telling me I was beautiful. Thank you for never telling me I was smart. Thank you for never telling me you were proud of me. Thank you for leaving me to fend for myself. Thank you for never being a part of my life. Thank you for not being a real dad.

You are not the reason I am as strong as I am. I am the reason I am as strong as I am. They told me I’d be messed up without a father figure, but they couldn’t have been more wrong. I had no father figure and I am awesome. I am a strong, independent woman with a healthy self-image and no self-destructive vices, and you didn’t contribute in a positive way to any of that. No man did. That is all because of me and the amazing women in my life. So thank you. You are the reason I will never believe the lies that I need a man in my life. You are the reason I know I am worth more than what any man thinks of me.

I used to think I missed out by not having you in my life, but I know better now. I didn’t miss out. You did. I am an amazing person, but you’ll never know that and you’ll never be able to claim credit for it. I’ve had and still have an incredible life, and the only person who lost by your absence in it was you.

You are not the reason I’m an amazing person, but you are the reason I know the truth of why I am, and you are the reason no one will ever convince me to believe the lies.

Thanks from,
The daughter you couldn’t be bothered to know

I was reminded this morning of how much I am simultaneously looking forward to and dreading next school year.  You see, I’m not going to school next year.  I am proudly graduating next June, and at that point I will be not quite seventeen.  This all goes back to when I was twelve years old and going into seventh grade and my mom decided I didn’t actually need to do seventh grade, and I therefore skipped seventh grade and went straight on to eighth.  So now I am a just sixteen-year-old senior in highschool, and I am not planning on going to college as a just seventeen-year-old freshman because, quite frankly, I am sick and tired of being the youngest in my class and of people asking me, when they finally put my age and grade together, “Oh, so are you like, really smart?”  Because the answer is no, I am not “like, really smart”, and I did not ask to skip a grade, and this is all my mother’s fault.  Therefore, next year I intend to take a year off and travel.  There are only two problems with this plan: a.) I will be alone, and b.) I will not legally be an adult, which creates a lot of problems when combined with problem A.  My initial plan was to move to Washington DC for a few months, because my favorite uncle is going to be living there, and I have always wanted to live in DC for a few months, ever since the first time I went there when I was eleven.  Then I thought I might go chill in Texas for a bit (a very, very short bit), because my mom is getting married next summer and moving there.  Then, if she hasn’t been sent somewhere too remote, I figured I might go visit my sister, Hannah, who is planning on joining the Peace Corp.  And in between times I’d come back to my home sweet home in So Cal to visit my other sister, Camryn, and my grandma (we’ve lived with my grandma since I was two; Camryn goes to school a few hours from our house).  This plan fell apart for the simple reason that it simply didn’t take up enough time.  I have about nine months to do all this, and I’ve only filled in about five, and I do not intend to sit around my house for four months.  I was thinking about this, and then I got what I thought was a really great idea.  You see, I want to be a director when I grow up, so I thought maybe I could get an internship with a film studio so I could have some experience in the industry before studying in college.  The problem is that all the studios in the US require you to be 21 (which is fine, there is really no point in doing something in LA when I have lived about an hour from it my whole life and will be going to college up there anyway).  I’m going to look at some stuff in the UK and NZ, but I really don’t know if they’ll be willing to hire a seventeen-year-old foreigner.  Just had to get that off my chest.

Chapter 16 still in queue.

Peace out.