Wakarimasu

Dear Dad,

Thanks for not molesting me when I was a child (or if you did, then thanks for not letting me know). I know what you did to my sisters. They told me years ago, and even when you’re six feet under, they’re still mad at you and wishing you’re rotting in hell. They’ll deny it, but at least some part of them still loathe what you did.

Thanks for not taking advantage of the guileless girl that I had been. Thanks for not being like the other older men outside – those who chose to see a woman in the body of a child. I hated them. I could have killed them. My hands still shake in rage whenever I remember, but they never got me. 

Thanks for leaving to live with your mistress. If you didn’t, then who knows what else you might have done? You’re a sick perverted bastard. Thanks for getting an outlet and keeping your hands away from me.

You hurt mom. For that, a part of me will always despise you, but I’m also grateful. Thank you for preserving my innocence when I needed it the most. Thank you for letting me keep some of my sanity.

People think I’m normal, Dad. I bet you did, too. I hope you bit the dust thinking so.

In the deepest recesses of my mind, I’m somewhat like you. You’d probably roll in your grave if you knew. 

That without my medication I’m a horny little beast.

I’m not sick like you, but I can hardly be called clean.

You’re an asshole, but I guess you did try your best. Deciding which is the lesser evil must have done a number on you, too. Sticking to that decision until the end…you were stronger than you thought.

I understand the price you had to pay. Back then I didn’t want to think about it, but I’ve always known.

Now I’m acknowledging it. So thank you.

It’s too late wherever you are, but thank you.