Why was I never enough for you?

Why did you sit out on the 7th grade father daughter dance, halfway through I ran to the bathroom to cry.

Why didn’t you like spending time with me? Every time I asked you to spend a Saturday afternoon doing something fun, you’d drop me off alone or bring work to do.

Why did you yell at me, when I told you I was self harming? You told me I’m not normal and I’ve never felt like I fit in very well since then.

You grabbed my arm and hurt me when I told you I was questioning my sexuality. I spent the night over an hour away, in my car smoking cigarettes and numb from all the hateful things you said.

You accused me of lying, when I spoke up about being raped. I was broken, fragile, crying and you were harsh and mean. When my abuser admitted to it, you claimed you believed me from the beginning.

Then possibly the best thing you ever did that hurt, was kicking me out 2 weeks before I turned 19.

You still refuse to have a relationship with me, I don’t know why I don’t matter to you. But oh well. I guess religion really is a poison, that makes you hate even your own blood.

You’re a pastor of hate. You preach poison. I hope you see that someday.