I hate you,Father

I can't love you anymore.

Not because I forgot how.

Not because I stopped trying.

Because there is nothing left to love.

And even if there was,

I wouldn't want to.

I hate you.

I hate you to the very core of me.

To the places you helped create.

To the wounds you planted
and then walked away from
as if they would never grow.

But they did.

They grew into sleepless nights.

Into trust issues.

Into anger I don't know where to put.

Into a version of me
that had to learn how to survive
without the person who was supposed to protect me.

You planted things in me.

Fear.

Doubt.

Resentment.

And now you look at the garden
and wonder why nothing blooms.

You want things to be the way they were.

You want forgiveness to arrive quietly.

You want time to erase what you did.

But things can't be how you want them to be anymore.

You don't get to rewrite the story
after tearing out the pages.

You don't get to come back
and call the damage a misunderstanding.

You don't get to stand in front of the ruins
and ask why the house isn't standing.

You were there when it burned.

I used to miss you.

Now I miss the person
I thought you were.

There is a difference.

One is grief.

The other is a lie.

And I am tired of lying to myself.

I hate you.

Not because it is easy.

Not because it makes me feel better.

But because every ounce of love
I ever had for you

died waiting for you to become
the father I needed.

And it never came back.