• To my dad

    by  • February 27, 2017 • * Safe for Work *, To You • 0 Comments


    Do you never feel like Mom tore the family apart? She dragged me with her, halfway across the world, and didn’t even have the decency to ask if we wanted this. I gave her my blessing to follow her dreams. I never gave her my blessing to take me with her. Wouldn’t she be better off without me? Wouldn’t you be better off without us? I still don’t understand how you two fell in love. She calls you and complains, you laugh uncomfortably and listen. I sit in silence, staring at a wall or my computer. I wish I could talk to you, but I know I’ll break down and I made a promise a long time ago to never cry in front of her again. Don’t you think she would be so much happier if she didn’t have a husband and a child? They say you can balance work and family, but she never found the balance. Work will always be before us. And I know I’m cruel to her. I know I’m the only person who has ever yelled at her before, but good God, life would be so much easier if she never talked to me and I never talked to her. Life would be so much better if she never took me halfway across the world. She lied, Dad. She told me it was the only way to bring our family together. She must’ve convinced you by saying I would be able to learn the native language, that it would broaden my perspective on the world. I didn’t, and it didn’t. I miss you, Dad. I miss my home, our home. I don’t want to die, but I wish I was never born. I wish you never married Mom, that you found someone as romantic and caring and devoted to you as you are to her. You deserve better. I deserve better. Mom deserves better. I’m crying, Dad. I cry so often since Mom and I moved. You saw me, when I visited home (alone, of course- Mom had to work, so I flew alone). I tried so hard to keep it together, but by the time you pulled into our neighborhood I was sobbing, literally sobbing. As soon as we got home, I ran upstairs, laid down on my bed, and cried until I couldn’t cry anymore. I ran my hands over my books, my artwork, my desk, my piano. Bittersweet tears. Everything seemed smaller. I felt like I no longer belonged in the same context, that nothing would ever be right again. Nothing has been right again.

    With Love and Regret,
    Your Daughter

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