Dear April |✔|

Day Twelve

Dear April,

He still won't look at me.

Hell, he won't even talk to me. I'm so confused. What did I do?

Mom consulted him at dinner tonight... That was the worse decision she had ever made...

He grew angry at the both of us when I just sat there uncomfortably and ate dinner. He said something to my mom and he said it like I wasn't even there.

He said that he can't look me in the eye because I remind him too much of someone...

These were his words, April.

"I don't like her because she reminds me too much of that bastard who got you pregnant!"

I was shattered... I was broken instantly.

All I did was drop my utensil and run up to my room. I didn't want them to see me cry. I didn't want him to know the affect he had on me, but God does he have an affect me on me, April. Of course, he does. He's my dad.

Well, I think. I don't even know anymore.

But by what happened next I knew that he knew that he crushed me. I destroyed everything in my room. There were dents in my wall, papers were teared, books were everywhere, my bed sheet was on the ground, pictures that I painted were either torn or the canvas had a hole through it.

I was so pissed, so hurt, I didn't even know what to do. I was bawling my eyes out, I knew they heard me but I was too depressed to do anything but cry.

Then I saw you.

You looked right at me through your window.

You were so scared.

I scared you. I didn't want to admit it but now I am. I scared you, April.

I could've seen the fear creep within each corner of your eyes. You even teared up a little. Your hands were shaking whilst you held onto your shirt where your heart was. Your breathing was uneasy and you looked like you were about to faint.

I scared the hell out of you and I didn't even care. What I did next hurt me more than it hurt you.

I closed my window, locked it, and pulled the curtain.

It took me a while to realize what I had done but when I did, I just threw another terrible tantrum, just like I always do when I'm pissed.

I guess that's why dad hates me...

I'm miserable. I'm never satisfied. I throw more tantrums than I say thank you.

I hate myself, April... I really do...

With much... I don't even know anymore,
Xoxo.