It has been over thirty years since I have seen my father, and it still cuts to the quick to know that he did not love me.  I understand that he was not filled with any parental affection or lovingly attached to his little girl when he tore me up with abuse and passed me around to his disgusting cronies.  He was probably not even capable of loving me; he was so full of evil, hate, and perversion.   I feel crushed because my child’s heart was open and true.  I sincerely adored him.  Now I understand that it was not my fault and there was nothing I could do to change him, and yet I am still racked with shock and grief realizing the tremendous amount of emotional suffering he caused my innocent mind.

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