Where were you, all those times you promised
you'd be there for me?
Those times when I broke down, when
I needed you most?
What were you doing when I had my
first panic and anxiety attacks?
How
about when I called and asked if we could talk, and you
"didn't have time"?
Where were you when I hit my
highest high, or my lowest low?
What about when I was admitted into
"counselling" to help my self-harm
addiction?
Where do you think you were when I
tried to kill myself for the first time?
Or when I succeeded in dying, and
they revived me?
Where were you?
What was so important that you
couldn't visit me in the hospital?
Why weren't you there for
me?
Why weren't you there when I
broke several bones?
Was your hockey game more important
than your injured son?
Every time I reached out, when I
was weak, when I needed you, you weren't there.
Where were
you!?
Here's the thing, though, Dad.
I don't break down anymore.
I haven't had a panic or anxiety attack in two years.
I have people who make time for me, now.
I have people who support me no matter where I stand.
I successfully "graduated" from the rehab centre, and I
haven't hurt myself in 8 months.
I haven't attempted suicide in 3 years.
See, I'm glad they revived me.
My injuries - physical, mental, and emotional, have all
healed.
All without your help.
I don't need you. Not anymore.
Even though my mother left you when I was an infant,
you walked out on me.
And, truth be told,
It's your loss, Dad.