Dear father,
You are not dead. You are still living, breathing, and alive.
But to me, you might as well be dead.
I don’t remember you. Mom says that I lived with you until I was around one, but I cannot remember a thing. You hated going to the courts to pay Child Fund, but you also told my mom countless of times to let me live with you. Why? You don’t know me. You don’t know the foods I like or the movies that make me cry and smile. You don’t know what I look like now. You know only my name and the face I wore as a baby.
You are a stranger.
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