Unnecessary Communication: UNDER RE-WRITE, DIFFERENT BOOK AVAILABLE! SAME TITLE!

Chapter 1: Rydia's P.O.V

Chapter 1: Rydia’s P.O.V

Hey,

I'm Rydia, you know your daughter? Yeah well this is she.

I started writing, already getting mad at the person who abandoned my mother when I was born.

I happen to really dislike you. Shocker I know. If you hadn't impregnated my mom you wouldn't worry about my sorry ass bothering you. That's pretty much all I am to people these days, a bother.

I couldn't believe I was writing this, but my therapist told me it would help me sort through my 'feelings'. My mom takes me as a nutcase for I 'never do anything normal', so she says. I'm sorry to say that I just don't like sitting at home, watching teeny bopper shows with my best friends, gushing out my feelings for the guy of the week.

I'm more of the type to go to the woods over the mall, or listen to music no one’s ever heard of over listening to Katy Perry. I'd rather be by myself, and then be surrounded by people I secretly dislike.

I am absolutely disgusted with you. Do you feel accomplished? Knowing you abandoned my mom when she needed you most? She was only sixteen, and you were nineteen, if I were her I'd sue your sorry ass. But I'm not. And for some strange reason she still loves you.

I can't believe you, you take my mom to prom to hopes of banging her and then you don't use a condom, thinking 'oh yeah, it's her first time, she'll be fine', how'd that work for you? Not well I'm guessing.

Then when she finally gets the heart to tell you, you say, 'I think we should see other people,' and then you hand fifty dollars to get an abortion. She never did, and then when I finally came out, you held me and told my mom 'I'm moving to Montana. Bye.'

Then you leave. And I've never heard of you since. The only picture I have of you is the picture of you holding my mom at the prom. I lost it a long time ago, and frankly, I don't miss it one bit.

What really hurt me from you, and trust me it's hard to hurt my feelings, is when we found where your meth head of an ass was, and my mom filed child support, then you, returned with, not a letter, but a paternity test request.

I'm so happy I said no. If I had said yes that would mean I would have to see you, and if I see you I'd knock your ass into a coma.

Sometimes I think about you and who you are. It hurts a lot to know that I'm not good enough to have as your daughter. I'm not good enough for anyone I guess.

I bit on the tip of my pen deciding whether or not to add something. Then I do.

P.S Do you ever think about who I am? What I look like?

Sincerely,

You're long lost daughter,

Rydia.

"Are you finished?" The old woman sitting across from me asks, scribbling on her yellow note-pad, not bothering to look up at me.

"Yeah," I mumble placing it on the coffee table. I sit back in the hard blue chair, twiddling my thumbs together, my eyes glued to the clock above her head.

"Well, we're done for the day, but I want you to..." I started to drown out her nasally voice, not caring about what she had to say.

"Whatever Knox. See you next week." I grabbed my bag, slinging it over my shoulder, ignoring the hard glare I got from Knox. I walked out of the room, pulling out my iPod and shoving my ear buds into my ears.