The Guilt Card Don't Work No More

Dear Dad.

You know I love you. I do. you're one of the few people in this world that shares my sense of humor. I wish I could tell you everything - how i've woven so many lies to you and Mom, how I have so many different personalities I don't know who the true me is anymore, or how i'm almost failing junior year.

I know you feel bad that you can't give us whatever we want whenever we want it. I've grown up knowing that if you want something, you have to go out and make money to earn it. I know just how hard you work in order to put food on the table and give us all this crap we don't need.

But please, when I say that I don't have any money to spend, don't feel bad about it to try and make me feel bad about it. I spent my money for the weekend, and I don't want to go out and spend more as a bribe to be Free Babysitter for Mom to shop at Wal*Mart. I hate how you and Mom use me like that - "Oh, well, if you want to go look at something other than food, you have to take your siblings with you."

They don't listen to me, and I'm not gonna sit in the toy aisle for two hours to watch THEM grouch over the fact that you gave them unearned allowance, and it wasn't as much as they wanted.

I tell you guys every week - "Don't give me allowance. I work for money, and I have some 300 dollars in the bank. If you want to give me money, trust me to carry my own debit card, and I can show you that I'm trustworthy."

But you and Mom can't seem to trust me.

I know you're going off of what Twon did - drugs, smoking, drinking, and all that other crap - but I'm different. I don't feel the need to go get high every weekend with my friends. Hell, I barely HAVE any friends.

I know i'm the social family outcast. I'm nothing that you would've imagined your sixteen-year-old daughter to be. I bet you pictures her skinny, blonde, perky, having more friends than she could shake a stick at, athletic, and happy all the damn time. Instead, you have me: 180 lbs., brown haired, down right sarcastic and cynical, pracitcally friendless, and would rather spend her time reading, writing, knitting, or listening to music than go outside to run around.

I know I'm a disappointment. I don't need you to reiterate.

Love, *name omitted*