Not Your Toy, Not Your Victim.

I’m struggling to know what to say to you, because there is so much I could say, and at the same time, I have no words for you.

There is overflowing anger stilling my hands as I try to formulate these emotions into something that makes any sense. I feel as though I could strangle you, but the other side is the pain, because you loved me, you loved me so much, but especially as I got older, I recognized how conditional that love was. You loved me and because of that, I have a whole boatload of trauma to unpack.

Perhaps I should thank you, because dying seems to be the best thing you’ve done to help the family.

You controlled our family so deeply that we all assumed we had a great childhood, and we didn’t question the odd things until now so yes, you were successful for a while, but I am so proud to say that I am stronger than you.

I have no desire to live in the cage of fear you created, and I have the skills needed to get out, so you had better fucking watch me do it.

It’ll take me time, because unlike you, I want to embrace the pain, I want to make friends with the monster under my bed, rather than choose to become that monster.

I am not bad nor do I have anything bad in me, in fact, no one decision will make me good or bad, this world is not that simple.

There are not enough words to explain the strength it’s taken me just to get to this point, and while I am far from done, I will never be finished loving myself.

How dare you.

You tried your best to blindfold me so I would fit your idea of the perfect daughter, you threw little arrows at me to cut me down. There was always a quick repercussion, because if I found out that the ludicrous consequences you scared us with were bullshit, your power would decrease.

I was not your toy, and I am not your motherfucking victim, I survived you, I survived my brother, I survived Mormonism, I survived Idaho, and I will survive this time while rising higher still.

I will not allow a pathetic, broken, little man to take my joy from me.

You never did stop to look at the victims left in your wake, did you? My Mom, my siblings, and myself all suffered… You don’t deserve peace, you don’t deserve to escape all punishment just because you’re dead.

You were supposed to be our protector, our hero, and yet you hurt us as intimately as possible. My entire sense of self was warped to make sure you approved of me, even as you raped me.

You held us to the same standards you held yourself, which sounded lovely on the surface, but ended up being a competition to see who could be most compliant.

And now? You’re dead.

I need to remember that, I don’t need to prove anything to you, you will never hold sway on my life again, I will never again fear because of you, we were never in the same race, but you sure thought we were.

I hope whatever empty satisfaction you gained from taking our innocence will be an eternal loadstone on your shoulders.

Fuck You Eternally, Your Daughter,

Bugs