Dear Marshall,

I've never been this bashed, hurt, and judged by anyone but you, M. All this time, I thought we've established an understanding here. Here's the deal, M, let's be frank here. No filter. No hyperboles. Just the facts. First of all, you were never there for me. Growing up, you were just a monetary value to me. You were an image, a representation that is my Father. I never saw you as my Dad. I always hated when you were around because I can't be comfortable. You presented me with all these standards that I fail to recognize my own. I was shy around you. I couldn't goof around when I'm with you, because to me, you were always so regal, so righteous, so upright, so perfect. However, I never resented you too much to hate you. Yes, I hated your presence. I hated that we can't just "hang" out. I always have to watch out for my words every time I'm with you. I always have to look right when I'm with you. My hair has to go on your desired length and preferences. My clothes has to be glamorous and pink and flowery. My weight has to be just right. Not too skinny. Not too chubby. I hated what you make me feel when I'm with you, so imperfect, so flawed, so weak. I hated all of that, yes, but I never hated you, to the point that I crave your attention, and do drugs and rebel. Typical of me, instead of pointing fingers and blaming it all on you, I've always looked at the brighter side. That all your cruel words and unrealistic dreams for me were there to motivate me. That your constant complain on my weight was to put me on the right scale. So I could be admirable. So you could flaunt me with your fake friends and all. I grew up trying to be what you want me to be, so I can help you do just that. So you can be proud of me. So the next time you hang out with your friends, your mouth will only utter praises of me. So they can be envious of you. So they can see you as the most luckiest Father on earth to have a daughter like me. I did all of that because I understood. I understood everything, and up until now I'm trying my best to understand. 

I always get moved by stories they tell me about you. I misinterpreted them as your way of trying to understand me too. But I realized, that wasn't your intention. And all this time, my efforts are unrequited. I was the only one trying here. And I'm so tired, because no matter how I open up to you, you couldn't see the door I've set up for you to walk into. I'm so tired to glue pieces of the puzzle that's not worth piecing together. Because no matter what, I am only an accessory to you. A leverage. A means to get you even higher. An investment, according to you. If you were monetary value to me, perhaps I am to you too. Your ambitions are untraceable, unreachable. It just doesn't retire, does it?

With time, I thought you've changed. Yes, I knew of your desires ever since I was young. You should really thank my Mom too. If it weren't for her, who knows what could have been between us. But I was made aware. It was a mutual effort, don't you see? Between my Mom and I, because you're damn too hard to decipher. Coming here, living with you, after 20 years, is a big thing M. A REALLY BIG THING. But I think you fail to realize my situation. You, perhaps, thought I was so dying to live in the city with you. But you're wrong. Why would I live with someone I hated hanging out with? That's just bullshit. But once again, as always, I am understanding you. I am giving us a chance. And there I was thinking things will be different this time. M, I think you need to know that I'm almost 21 years old. I am not a new born baby, growing into a toddler, that you can control. But you are treating me like one. Feeding me with dishes you choose, dressing me with clothes that you like, putting me to the best school, and choosing the neighborhood I'll grow up in. That's not how it fucking works, M. You were absent for 20 years! Don't you see that? M, this isn't a time loop. The time we've lost, no matter how pitiful, can never be brought back. I am an adult now. But as an adult, I'm still... still... still... trying to fix this. Even though I could go on my own way, I chose to be with you. I chose it, M. I chose it. When birds learn how to fly, do not expect them to crawl. Birds can choose not to fly, rest on a branch somewhere for the afternoon, but never permanently. M, I have grown my wings when you weren't looking. In fact, I've grown my wings before anyone did my age. All thanks to you. A gift you gave me that I am so thankful for. I've learned to handle myself because you weren't there. And sometimes it gets sad, but at the end of the day, I am grateful of the independence, for the freedom of a leash. And that is why I never resented you. Because behind all this, I've gained something from it too; a lesson of a lifetime. Yes, I may be giving you chance, but it's a chance to make it up to me, not bring back time and relive the lost years. We are moving forward M, not going backwards. God damn.

Let me give you the honor to advice me, go on. After all, I am giving us a chance. Advice me all you want with my career and the perfect guy, but do not dare advice me on my friends. You seriously need to update the meaning of friendship on your vocabulary. You have no idea what real friendship is. All thanks to you, everything else in my life is a blur, that the only constant thing in my life are my friends, and my Mom (and brother), the only two things I give a damn in this world. The rest can just drown in tears. Take away one of them and you take away my reality. M, don't you see? Everything. Everything, I give to you. My entire soul. Take it. Take it all. Use it to your advantage. But please let me keep my heart. Let me protect it. Cross that line, and you've crossed my limit. If I have to choose between my friends and you, I'd choose my friends. Why? Because I know them, and I don't know you. Because they were there, and you weren't. Because I grew up with them, and I didn't grow up with you. My heart contains nothing but a couple of faces, faces that is home to me. More home than you will ever be.

But you, M, this is your last straw. That's it. I am done trying. I am done understanding. I am done. This is all your fault. Yes, I am finally blaming you, for all this crazy bullshit. If you're going to use me, I am going to use you too. Let's use each other, until we lose each other. I wouldn't care anymore, no. You can just rehearse your goodbye, because I am. You'll hear it soon, hopefully very soon.

My goodbye.

PS. Now, I hate you.