An Open Letter to my Deadbeat Dad


Dear Deadbeat Dad,

To start this off, hello. I haven’t heard from you in over six months, and I haven’t seen you in years. I hope all is going well for you and your little family. Speaking of family, how are my two older half-sisters? I have one as a friend on Facebook, but the eldest STLL has me blocked since the last phone conversation you and I had last year. I’m sure you remember it. It was “National Sibling Day” and she had made a cute collage with only herself and my two other half-sisters – not including me. It didn’t bother me much until I read the comments. Her own mother stated that she had forgotten me, which you later denied. That’s when I decided to call you out on your complete and utter BS.

That last phone conversation consisted of me telling you the truth, you denying everything, and you telling me, “Why do you care so much? You are about to go to college.”

I realized from a young age that you liked to twist and manipulate situations to make everyone else the bad guy except you. I learned this on my own; however, you are going to constantly blame my mom for “placing lies in my head” about you. Don’t flatter yourself. You were never the center of conversation at my house.

Once I began to see through your lies, broken promises, and manipulation, I started speaking my mind to you during our rare phone conversations. I don’t think you enjoyed that very much. I’m a force to be reckoned with and I’m proud of it.

At the end of the day, there are a few things I need to say thanks for.

Even though you threw a fit at first, thank you for agreeing when my mom filed for divorce.

Thank you for being my first heartbreak. Most young girls have their hearts broken by a little boy on the playground but not me. My “daddy” took care of that real quick.

Thank you for showing me what traits I do not want in my future husband.

But most importantly, thank you for showing me that it doesn’t take blood to be a real father. I have the best dad in the whole world… and you are not him. Who cares for my mom and me? He does. Who taught me how to ride a bike? He did. Who puts me first in all situations? He does. Who keeps his promises? He does. Who taught me how to drive? He did. Who comforts me when I’m upset? He does.

My mom gave you plenty of opportunities to be a constant in my life, but I’m terribly sorry that alcohol and cigarettes are more important to you than flesh and blood.




The One You Left Behind