Dear Dad,
Consider yourself truly lucky ; I don't write letters often.
Hell, I never do! I guess I just felt the need to right now.
Between that and the fact that it's almost 3am, I'm here, writing you a letter, even though I'm sure you'll never read it.
Not that you'd care about that,
Seeing as you never cared about anything else I have to say.
Anyways...
Just wanted to let this out.
I've never been good at hiding my emotions from people...
But you wouldn't know that.
The scars on my arms remind me every day that you never cared.
Not even when I was a child.
Sometimes, You'd look through me, as if I wasn't there, invisible.
Other times, You'd simply come to the conclusion that I was there, and it pissed you off.
I learned that the hard way.
To you, My dreams are worth nothing. Less than nothing, If that's possible.
To any other father, They would've been worth more than the amount of stars in the sky.
My arms were a different Kaleidoscope of colours each night, Red, Purple, Black and Blue.
They patterned my skin like a tiger's stripes.
Sometimes, I could barely hold a cup, I felt as if It weighed tonnes more than it actually did.
I dropped glasses a few times, Shattering the shards over the floor.
Sometimes, you dropped glass too.
Only it was different.
The glass you shattered was usually empty Vodka bottles that you cracked over my head.
The blood stained my hair, and sometimes, I feel like it's still there.
I'm pretty sure it is.
You dislocated my collarbone once. I remember the icy cold of the
Ceramic as you held my body over the sink at an angle that shouldn't be reached. When you grabbed me by my neck and threw me onto the ground.
I can still feel your fingertips there sometimes.
When people asked about them, I lied. I told them that I fell down the stairs, and they believed.
Physical and emotional scars still scatter around my body, hidden for most part.
I never did heal.
But you wouldn't know that.
~ Jade.