Mom told me. I was going to write a beautiful letter telling you exactly what I think of your refusal to attend the singlemost important event of my life, and of the sheer cowardice in not telling me personally. But I realized something: You don’t deserve an explanation from me, and you aren’t worth wasting my finest vocabulary on. Do not attempt to contact me in the future. If you can’t be bothered to be a father, then I am not interested in being your daughter.

Me, in a private message on Facebook to my father (about two minutes ago)
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Mostly, I write stuff. And, like the Egyptians and the Internet, I put cat pictures on my walls. Also, I can read your Tarot.