Dear Sister Paterson pt.2

You must hate yourself.
Trying to make me feel lower than dirt must make you feel great.

I held back in the first letter. The truth is, I wasn't able to come to grips with how I truly feel about you. In the first letter I focused on what you've done to me. Every bone in my body wanted to call you out of your name and say I hated you, but I resisted. How could you hate someone that always kept a roof over your head, food in your belly, and clothes on your back? The real question should have been, how could you not hate someone for putting me through everything I have endured on account of you. The fact is, I hate you. I hate everything you stand for. I hate your thoughts. Your voice makes my skin crawl. Your footsteps make my fist want to put a hole in the wall to match the one I made back in high school.

Ending up in the hospital was one of the best things that could have ever happened to me. I was kept away from you and I finally had proof I wasn't crazy like you would like people to believe. You never physically abused me, but I learned that there's a such thing as mental abuse. Somehow it was clear to the doctors that I was a victim.

All that glitters isn't gold. You did just enough for me so the state would never take me away. I'll go ahead and say it. You are an unfit parent. You should have never been allowed to give birth. You treat me like you scraped up enough money for an abortion, got to the clinic, and the doctor told you it was to late. My mentor actually asked me if I was an "Oops Baby."

At times I actually sit and try to figure it out. I wonder what I did to you. I wonder what I did to make you hate me. Then I realize, it's not me...it's you. If it was me then everyone around me would also treat me like shit. No one would love me. No one would find me beautiful or smart. No one would want me as a daughter. The fact of the matter is, I'm loved by everyone but you. Countless parents have "adopted" me. Countless wise and highly respected adults have seen something in me that they have fallen in love with. That's how I know the love you give me isn't love at all. It's not healthy, and you don't have the heart of a parent.

For once, I'm going to be honest with myself. I envy my friend who is a child of the state. I know he's had it rough, but he made it through and doesn't have to have contact with his mother if he doesn't want to. I wish that were me. I finally realized that it can be me. Enjoy these last days of putting me through hell. I'm done. I don't want you in my life, and for the first time in my life, I'm realizing that you don't have to be there. Let me outline this for you:

• I don't have to give you my address.
• I don't have to give you my phone number.
• I can block your email address or label it as spam.
• I can make it so the only way you'll even know I'm still alive is if you were to search for me on myspace.
  
• I can delete you from my life.
  

I'm enduring these last days with you. When you belittle me, I laugh. You should see yourself. You look so dumb with all your corporate parenting n shit. This isn't a business meeting, I'm your daughter in case you forgot. It's like you sense the end is near so you are trying to milk this situation for every drop of satisfaction you get. At the beginning of this letter I was crying. Now I'm smiling. I'm that crazy competitor that gets beaten shitless but still manages to talk shit as you walk away. That's a sign of a person who is just crazy enough to be a survivor. I'm a fuckin survivor. Thanks for making me stronger.