dad

To the father figure in my life,

I come from a family that always told me they loved me, but I never really believed it.

I didn't feel loved or cared for.

I think that's why, as a teenager, when anyone said they cared about me, I found it hard to believe.

I had set up a defense mechanism where I laughed or brushed it off.

Never took it seriously because I didn't want to be wrong and be hurt.

My freshman year of high school, I was trying to take care of myself, convincing myself that my struggles were simply because I was in a new school.

My sophomore year, I was introduced to you.

At first, you seemed just as ordinary as any other teacher I'd ever had.

In december of my sophomore year, I opened up to you.

You were the first person I had ever shared my feelings with.

And although I didn't see it at the time, you cared.

I was a broken girl who couldn't imagine anyone caring for her, and here you were, a virtual stranger, and you cared.

Going into my junior year, I was once again scared.

Maybe you wouldn't talk to me again, but you did.

I distanced myself, convincing myself I was nuisance and it would be best for me to stop talking to you.

In that month, I collapsed.

You only know some of it, the letter I wrote you for junior day, and the time I emailed you.

I wrote that letter crying at the table while friends tried to ask me what was wrong.

I wrote that email because I was taking more pills than I was supposed to, knowing they wouldn't hurt me, but hoping they would.

I somehow realized I was being stupid, and began talking again.

I remember one day, I was sitting on the floor of your office making jokes and laughing, and going home and writing in my journal "it was a good day" for the first time in months.

When paris happened, I remember slowly panicking and I began texting you and maya.

It wasn't until someone had told me to tell my mom that I realized I had forgotten about them and turned to you over my own parents.

Afterwards, my friends would joke around and say how weird it was that I had forgotten to text my mom and had turned to you..

It really wasn't until the summer between my junior and senior year, after a night of no sleep and sitting on my porch hugging my dog watching the sunrise, that I realized you cared.

I had known, but I never really accepted it or pushed it off to the side.

You were under no obligation to take care of me when I was your student, much less when I wasn't.

You had taken me in because you wanted to.

It was the first time I felt loved.

I sat on my porch crying, and although I cried often, it was never because I was so overwhelmingly happy.

Because I had finally felt cared for.

I was always in the habit of reading old emails when I had a bad day.

They had your smart remarks, advice, and encouragement.

You had told me you were happy I wasn't hurting myself, or that Molly said hi, or you'd send a picture of natalie.

As I sat in my room one night, a few months after the realization, I was reading old emails, and began to sob uncontrollably.

Here was a man who cared for me that wasn't my blood.

Who had his own life and family, but somehow managed to slip me in there.

I had never had a positive parental figure in my life, and now I did.

There will never be a time where I will be able to say how much you mean to me.

So that's why I write this, because as I've said before, it's the best way I can communicate.

You will never understand how much motivation you gave me to keep going.

I had made a list of reasons why I would stay.

The first two were my brothers.

The third was to see Natalie.

And the fourth was to not disappoint you.

I genuinely don't know where I would be right now had I not decided to talk to you.

Might still being completely lost and alone.

Might not be here.

You gave me hope.

And you might not care, but I want to make you proud.

And one day come back and show you the woman I have become.

Because I owe everything to you.

Thank you, D