Confessions...

            I know a little girl who used to hold her father’s hand everyday. When they were strolling around somewhere and before she’d go to sleep, she’d make sure her tiny hand was in her father’s big one. To that little girl, her father’s hand was her shield; she believed she was safe from all the dangers life could throw at her. That little girl always felt happy and contented whenever she was holding her father’s hand and silently praying and wishing that he would never let go. I know. She told me so herself.

            A few years went by and slowly, the little girl forgot about those feelings. She became distant and, to her father, maybe, cold and spoiled. Truth be told, she was just afraid. She was afraid that if she showed too much emotion, her father would think she was a cry baby and a dependent person. Many nights did the girl cry silently, quietly, so that no one would hear her; no would see her, shed tears of happiness, sorrow, regret, and mourning. She was a pro at hiding those panda eyes after a sleepless night. She was a pro at hiding her true feelings from her family. I don’t why she became this way. All I know is, she just did. Until now, I’m searching for her reasons. That girl definitely and sincerely wants to turn back time and relive those hateful days when she and her father had a fight or when she said something she shouldn’t have. I’ll tell you that girl is smiling all day, but is crying all night. She doesn’t know anymore how to express her feelings to her father. She doesn’t know how to change the distant atmosphere she has with her father right now. The girl can see that her father is trying hard to get closer to her, but she pushes him away; choosing to laugh about it or just do something else, just as long as she’s alone. She wants so badly to become the daughter her father deserves to have. Yet, there’s something holding her back from changing. Something even I can’t figure out.