Dear, Mom and Dad, especially Dad.
I know Mom's having a few health scares, because she's not used to being sick, and it's her time of month, but I don't think it gives YOU any right to egg her on when she's getting hysterical, with snide little comments, and yelling in another language. Yelling names, probably, 99% probability, actually, considering who you are, that are demeaning and meant to hurt. But guess what, Dad? All those names? They don't mean a thing to me. It's the idea that you think these things, that you assume, that you're presumtious and arrogant, that's what gets me. But you know what? Whatever your goal, I don't think you've reached it. I may be confused, but I'm only angry while you assume and call names, but afterwards, I'm calm. In fact. I'm downright happy. Because in the end, I didn't call YOU any names. I never once swore at you OR mom. NEVER. Ever notice? Didn't think so. It's not in your nature.
You insult, you threaten, say you don't care anymore? Well today, I stood up, and you know what? I felt good, then bad, then nothing. That's right. NOTHING. You can't hurt me, in any language, whether as you hit me when I was too young to know what abuse was, or whether you're emotionally abusing me now. Because I'm too prideful, a little like you, I guess, to ever hate myself, doubt myself, or even hurt myself over you. When you said you didn't care for the 50th time, I said, "Finally." Because that's what I feel when you say that. I know. I shouldn't feel that way. But guess what? It's 12:30 AM, and I do. I feel free, for the first time in months.
Guess what? Mom just came in and said sorry. And said that you called her 'useless' for being so lenient, so caring, so motherly. Guess what? That's exactly what you call me everyday. And I don't care. It doesn't hurt. Not anymore. To actually think about it, it never really did.
The thing is, I learned this all by myself, maybe with a little, or a lot, of help from Mom and my friends, even when we were going through rough times. What I mean is: You were never a father to me. You never helped me learn. You were just there for show. You didn't help me through stressful times, you added onto it. And now, I feel self-actualized for a moment, that little moment during twilight, because I realize that no matter how hard I try not to freak out at you like most teenagers have done to their parents, you're still never going to care for me like a real one should.
Face it. Mom gets mad at you, you suck up to her. When we were younger, and she wasn't around, you yelled at us, abused us, didn't care till she came home. Now, we're too smart for the physical abuse, but the self-righteous looks you send? The way you taunt us behind her back, the way you egg her on when she's mad at us?
That's what confuses me.
Are you actually trying to hurt me? Or are you not trying at all?
(A/N: Remember, she isn't his portal to another dimension anymore. She's just that daughter. I guess. But this is what I wrote, and it felt fitting. No flames, please.)