Hey dad,

I don't know when I'll ever work up the courage to actually present this letter to you, because it contains so, so much that I've always hidden in my heart, afraid that you'll find out yet secretly longing for you to discover them. Maybe someday. Or maybe I'll tell you face to face. But for now, I'll settle with a letter.

I know I'm a spoiled princess at home. I know you love me a lot. I know that you know me very well. We both know that. It makes me happy when you can complete my sentences or even know what I feel like eating without asking me. I'm sure you think there's nothing much you don't know about me.

Every time you look at me and say, "Of course I know you well. I'm your dad!" , I would smile, but a little bitterly. There are a lot that you don't know about me. And that's because I choose to hide them.

You don't know that I love writing, and that I actually write often and even post them here. I mentioned it once, but that's it. You told me to focus on my studies and you didn't like it when I wrote, so I decided to stop telling you anything about it. Its been years, you probably have forgotten. You might approve now, but I'm not willing to risk feeling the hurt from seeing your disapproval at what I love to do by telling you. After all, writing is my first passion. The first thing that actually motivates me and gives me hope when I was feeling so aimless in life. Yet you decided it wasn't good for me. I don't think I'm ready for a second time.

You don't know that how bad is my anxiety. Cause you don't think it's a legit thing in the first place. Even though you take up quite a large part of why I have it too. You're too controlling, dad. You have unreasonable schedules and rules that I have to follow everyday. I don't get my privacy at home. You judged everything that I do and like. I don't really have the free will to just spend my time however I want to without fearing you'll get angry at me. It really affects me. I'm constantly worried and alert. Always warning myself I can't make mistakes. You don't take failures very well. That's why I'll overthink many, many things, especially if it concerns you, and even if it's actually just an extremely simple, normal task.

But at this point, I can't really blame you anymore. I've already grown up and it's a part of me. There are times I'm grateful I have anxiety too. But I just really wished you could hear what I have to say about the way you raised me. I have the right to express myself, don't I?

Technically I do, if I'm willing to listen to you rejecting all that I said and deeming it wrong. So I guess I don't. It might be the huge age gap we have. But it really doesn't help me feel confident in myself and my opinions when all you do is deny them. You don't agree on my thoughts on my dreams, my choices and my beliefs. I understand that you've lived through a tougher, harsher life that made you realistic and practical, but all I ask of you here, is to just listen. Don't deny me so fast. Listen, and think about it. I'm not a child anymore. I wish you can take me more seriously.

You've been going on with how you always blurt out things without thinking too much within family. But those words hurt every time. I'm extremely sensitive when it comes to my dreams and my opinions. Its hard enough to tell anyone, but when I try to tell you, all the memories of you saying bad things about them come flashing pass and it pulls me back from doing so. I always feel like I'm trapped.

The reason why this letter is for you, and not anyone else, like a friend, is because I truly do love you. You're a great father to me, and I'm grateful for all the love you've given me. And that's exactly why it makes me extremely sad and regretful that I am forced to hide so many things from you.

I really want to open up to you. But please make me feel comfortable doing so.

No matter what, I've decided I'm definitely telling you all that I've buried inside my heart. I wouldn't want to regret it when you're no longer by my side. You deserve to know, even if it will anger you at first.

I'll wait till then, when I've gathered enough courage, when I'm no longer just a child to you and you're ready to listen to your daughter.

Much love,
Jas.