a letter a year // matty healy short fanfiction

7 - "go fūck yourself, matt healy"

"dear matty,
i promised myself i would never write to you again, but here i am. i'm even breaking my stupid tradition of only writing once a year, and you know what? it doesn't matter. none of this matters to anyone except me.
i spent years imagining you as this wonderful, loving person. i made excuses for you when you didn't send money or visit.
everything i said in those first letters was true. i adored you, i wanted you to be happy, i was proud of you, i thought you were perfect. more than anything, i just wanted you to love me like a dad should love his daughter.
but i don't have the right to say any of these things about loving you because i do not know you. all i know is a guy wearing a leather jacket and skinny jeans who would come into my life when it was convenient for him. and when it wasn't? you just dropped out. you decided you didn't want to be a part of my life and you left.
why my ninth birthday? was that when you thought i was older and didn't need you anymore? well, guess what, that's when i needed you the most. when i was growing up and i didn't have anyone to talk to except for my out of control mother and the friends that never stayed more than a year.
you don't know what it's like to grow up feeling like you're a burden, like no one needs you or even wants you. i'm not saying you could fix everything but you could at least fūcking try.
i honestly don't know why everyone is so surprised that i've turned out like this. just look at my parents. one is a basket case who can barely look after herself, let alone a child, and what can i say about you? nothing. that's the point. there's nothing i can say about you except that you are selfish, irresponsible and you are the reason i have wasted every single birthday since i was nine years old thinking about you and hoping that maybe you'd write me a letter or visit me or pick up the fūcking phone.
it isn't fair, you know. you're the one who left me. it's YOUR fault. and yet at this very moment, you're probably smoking weed with your groupies or writing lyrics or kissing some random girl, completely oblivious as to what you've done to me. and i'm the one who's crying and

it's not fair.
and for the record, it wouldn't be 'lovely' if i could tell everyone that i was your daughter, because i don't want anything to do with you, or your fūcking stupid hairstyles or your weird clothes or your pretentious repetitive music.
you haven't caused every bad thing in my life, but believe me when i say that every single day that you ignored me i felt like a disappointment. if you loved me then why did you keep me a secret? that's what i thought for years.
but now I'm fourteen and it's gone on too long. you mean nothing to me. this letter is me letting you go. so, once and for all, go fūck yourself, matt healy.
yours sincerely,
margo