00:43, 29/05/2003

Dear Papa,

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry for being such a useless daughter. I'm sorry for bringing you so much pain. I'm sorry for not being good enough for this family.

It seems that everything I touch goes to dust. First, Kris. Then, Mama. What next? Are you gonna leave me too, Papa?

I'm so scared, Papa. I feel so alone in this world. I feel like there's no one who would miss me if I left, that I'm nothing but a wisp in the wind, a withered leaf trembling in the howling gale.

I wish that I could come home and enjoy a dinner with you. I wish that I could hug you and tell you about ny day.

I wish that you wouldn't drink so much. I wish that you wouldn't beat me up. But if it makes you happy, then I'm okay with it.

No matter how much you may beat me, how much you may curse me, I don't blame you. I know that you're hurting- it hurts, oh how it hurts- so I won't blame you for your actions. Having to support me, support us must be so gruelling.

I won't blame you even when you hit my body with a rod.

I won't blame you even when you whip me with your belt.

I won't blame you even when you hurl beer bottles at me.

I won't blame you even when you give me leftovers from the garbage bin.

I won't utter a word when I come home, because I don't want to burden you with the news of my being bullied in school. You have enough on your plate as it is.

I'm doing all this for you, Papa. Why?

Because I'll love you forever, even if you've long since stopped caring for me. You're my Papa, and that'll never change.

Love,

Your faithful daughter, Angel