I have tried so hard to love you as best I can.
My father always told me you had a sickness; but now I'm older, I realise that despite common thought it is not a sickness- it is a greed.
I have followed you to the shops asking if I am not more important to you than the drink is... and despite your answers you always end up drunk.
You have said the most unimaginable, hurtful things to me- "Rot in hell with your father" would be one, but I know that somewhere inside you, you understand what you're doing and don't like it. How you can choose whiskey above our family life is beyond me, but sadly I respect it. You have your own issues and you don't know how to deal with them. If you ever opened up there is a mass of people waiting with open arms to heal your hurt.
I have an awful lot of anger, and I suppose issues would be the most appropriate word, involving you, but;
It's just me and you now, and Dad never gave up on you. I won't either.
Love you no matter what,