20 - Voices in My Head

When Father asked me what I thought about him divorcing Mom, I wanted to smack him. I was sitting in the backseat of his car, so I couldn't reach his face. Wasn't he supposed to try and keep the family together? Betrayal at its finest, ladies and gentlemen.

But to be honest, I wanted him gone. It's true that hating someone is a lot easier when you can't see them. Yet, the kids needed their "Daddy," the guy who was a role model who was on one side fluffy like a teddy-bear and on the other, strong as a rock. So I said, No. No divorce. The kids need you. He smirked, as if he had already known my answer.
I proceeded to get out of the car and hightail home, trying my very best to forget his reply: That's what I thought, too. I couldn't have said it better myself.

To myself, I thought, You're such a self-sacrificing hypocrite. I couldn't have agreed more with the voice in my head.

Voices

18 - Falling Apart

My father is a peculiar person. Not too friendly, and not too shy, he is the epitome of the working man. His rugged beard and East Asian culture never stopped him rebuking a stranger to defend his integrity. His accented English would always ring through my head as it was he who  told me to dream big and to dream loud, for if something is impossible, it is all the more fun to achieve it.

Our relationship can only be described as the father-daughter love so keenly dissected apart on TV shows. He was my hero, flaws and all.  I was his little girl no matter how old I was. I am -- no, I was -- cherished, respected, and above all, loved. And like all relationships, ours fell apart.

It was subtle and came with a bang. His words and actions that was spoken to me meant nothing because of his one action at that one time. It shattered everything I held dear.

Now, conversations are used with only the necessary words, and eye contact is non-existence. I haven't seen Father in 2 months.

He's coming for Christmas, and I'm really starting to hate the apprehension and fragility.

Fear

Ice-cream...

I have four siblings. As the eldest of 5, there's a huge age gap of 13 years between me and the youngest, John. He's capricious and annoying, but kind and gentle. I'm pretty sure he'll be a favorite among the ladies.

We were walking home together while it was quite dark. He and I had left home to buy ice cream. He held my hand so tightly I thought something was wrong.
But he said with those big brown eyes, "You'll protect me. If I don't let go, I won't be scared."

My heart broke in two, which caused me to make a foolish, stupid, and irresponsible promise.

I promised I would never let go.

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