When Tears Refuse to Fall

A man broke my heart. He is no ordinary man. Not some random guy I met and fell in love with. This man is my flesh and blood. This man is my father.

There is a big gap where love and respect used to be. An irrepairable wound that would continue to fester until the day I die. Hate would be too mild. Extreme anger an understatement. What's left now is cold cold indifference, a blank, a space.

He didn't hesitate, didn't even blink. He just went ahead and cut me open with a blunt knife and continued to twist until I bled all that I could.

I choose life. I choose happiness. I choose peace. So, I let him go. Turned away and didn't look back, didn't hesitate, didn't even blink. He himself showed no remorse, felt no guilt for turning his back on his own daughter. Why should I?

Now, I am free, and soon, I will be happy with the man who picked up the pieces of my heart and mended it whole. The man who makes me believe that true love and happiness are possible in this world. The man who is the exact opposite of my father. The man with whom I will share the rest of my life with.

Goodbye, Dad.