An Open Letter to the Person I Will Never Forgive

I used to look up to you. You were the one I wanted to be like when I grew up. To me, you were Superman. Little did my 7-year-old self know that you were nothing like that. You always demanded respect from me, but never seemed to give it. Your way of resolving things was through shouting matches and broken glass. Now that I look back on my childhood, I see how naive I was. I realized the meaning of the saying “love is blind”. I looked past your wrong doings and ignored mom’s cries because I cared too much for you. I wish I had listened to her and left the first time she asked me to, but I was too foolish. I pushed my ideology of “complete family = happy family” onto her, thus forcing her to put up with your abuse for years. I am on the brink of adulthood now, and I now see how foolish that decision was. With my own eyes, I saw the pain you inflicted on her and even experienced it firsthand. You don’t know and probably never will know how much it has affected me. Every time a person raises their hand at me, whether it be to high-five me, pat me on the head, or playfully slap me, I remember the sharp pain I felt every time your hand met my cheek. I don’t show it, because most people know me as the cheerful, optimistic person who tries to be positive no matter what happens. However, I will never forget the tears I shed over your hurtful words and abuse. Thinking about it now brings me to tears and makes my hands shake with anger. It has been 2 years since I’ve spoken to you the way I speak to others: cheerful, eager, joking. In between then and now, I don’t remember the happy memories. They seem to have all been replaced by the painful ones. There is one that stands out, and still comes into mind whenever I see you or hear your voice. It was early this year, I had told you and mom that I would be hopefully running for the Dean’s List if I could maintain my midterm grades. You had gotten angry and said that I hadn’t been trying hard enough and that they were of no worth. I, being the sharp-tongued person I am, fought back and asked how come I never once in my life got praised or heard the words “Good job, keep working hard” from you. I shut the door and sobbed in my room, then you barged in saying how would I have been able to survive a school abroad if my grades were like that and that I should be ashamed. I gave a smirk and told you that I would show you one day. I don’t remember what happened after that except the multiple slaps I received and the image of you grabbing me by my clothes, trying to drag me out of the house. I really wanted to say something along the lines of “If anyone should be ashamed, it should be you. First of all, who are you to be lecturing me about college? You didn’t even graduate. You barely even do any work while mom works her butt off to provide for us.” Don’t you realize how hard mom works? Don’t you feel guilty that she’s the main provider of the family, while all you do is minimal housework and watch television the whole day? Aren’t you ashamed that your own daughter is more active in looking for ways to earn money than you are? Don’t you realize how that makes you look? I want you to know that I will not forgive you for the things you have done to me and mom. Thanks to you, my heart has numbed to your pleads and “apologies”. You just commit the same mistakes over and over again. I would still like to say thank you, though. Thank you for making me the person I am now. I would rather voice out how I feel and suffer the consequences rather than stay quiet, because I’ve already learned my lesson from you. If I stay quiet, you will think that it’s okay to do what you're doing, but it's not and I’ve had enough. Thank you for showing me the kind of person I do not want to marry, the kind of person or parent I will strive not to be. Your words and actions still weigh heavily on my mind, but I will never ever let the people around me know it. It’s my way of proving to you that I am going to be a better person than you ever will be.