Dear Father,

This is possibly the thousandth draft of an imaginary goodbye letter I'm writing you.
Maybe I'm being over dramatic and maybe it's the fumes from my freshly painted walls, but
Please understand why I'm cutting ties when I leave. It's not (only) that you were never present enough in my childhood -notice how you never encouraged me to take up any activities, to discover a passion, to get out of the house and discover things with you- , but also because, instead of opening up to me, being an understanding dad in front of whom I would never cower to ask for help to, you shut me up behind a wall of taboos and closed dialogue. Because you were never there to help me cope with my anxiety problems ; because you never said 'i love you' or showed any form of affection after i turned eleven ; because you never took my beliefs seriously or took the time to listen to what I have to say and show your support ; because we share nothing more than a last name in common ; all of this leads up to what I was crafted into today.
So it's no use screaming at me every time I close all the doors downstairs because of my OCD (which I've been trying to cope with for the last three years and which you think is a joke), or acting all exasperated and disappointed 'once again' because your darling daughter can't stand spending over thirty minutes in the same room as you and has to go back to her room for fear that she'll go mad and slap you because she can't stand your hurtful little jokes that show you take nothing she says into consideration.
I'm through. Maybe you gave us financial support. But the moral wasn't there, and it's reflected in my everyday life. In the way I work in school, in the way I treat my friends and boyfriend, in the way I do stupid things and waste my life away, in the way I talk, in the way I look, in the way I go out of my way just to make sure I won't turn into you.
I'm sorry. It's hard to realize that you've made me who I am in a negative way.
I don't remember the last time we touched.