It has been ages since my last confession to you and to the people I have hurt. I have committed all sorts of sins to you, and to many of my brothers and sisters. But the gravest one so far, I did to you and to your friend. Though indirectly involved, I feel obligated to admit that it was all my fault.

See, it had been a hard day. I bet you are wondering what was so hard about it. Well, maybe I am just lazy, or am just not very good at dealing with emotional pressure, or maybe it's a bit of both, I am not sure. But the truth is, I was tired that day, emotionally. There is always just this sort of presence I feel when I enter your house. It varies a bit depending on how and when I enter it. But it is always there. I bet you have known that. It has been there ever since I was a kid. A young girl coming home from school and getting that feeling immediately I entered the door. The house has always been divided. Sometime it was different. Sometime we just didn't have the children on one side and the strangers on the other...no.....sometimes, we had some strangers join in with the kids. But as far as I can remember, the kids have always been on one side.

It hurts to feel unwelcome in your own home. Especially when home is something any child in boarding looks forward to going to. There was a time I didn't look forward to coming home anymore. But that was way later. In the beginning, it was easier. I didn't understand much of what was happening. I was too young. But then I started growing, and it was at the wrong place.

See, it had been easier to deal with everything when I was miles away. I would come home for atmost five weeks, and regardless of how much pain and stress I received, I would get away just in time to go elsewhere to deal with it. Frankly, I didn't deal with it. I just stuffed it to some corner within me and forgot all about it for the next three to four months I was away, then it would seep back into the forefront when I made it home again. I guess that was the first mistake I made.  Always holding it in. When I came over to go to a day school, that's when I felt I lived in hell. I couldn't get away. I had to deal with everything I saw, heard and felt without much space to deal with them. It was difficult. My few hours in school were just not enough to count as my get away time. I guess in a way this kinda explains my behaviour when I was with you then. I always felt like I had to get away, and the only way I could get you to notice all that was happening around me was by getting away. It didn't have anything to do with the money, if it had, the first time you threw it at me after my first time I ran away could have stopped the other ten times I did it. I needed something, something you couldn't give me, and that hurt the most.

Bringing back the distance I desired from you was a good idea. Boarding school again. I may have hated it before, but now I was pretty sure I wouldn't want it any other way. And it helped me get sane enough to live a normal life, to an extent. But we were back to square one with the whole problem when I got home. But this time it was a bigger problem, because I wasn't a little girl anymore. And as a woman, it hurt more. And sometimes, the woman in me hit back. And it wasn't pleasant. And I hated those moments in my life too. I still do.

What happened last week was the biggest one so far. It shook me, way more than I have ever been shaken by anything else in my whole life. I am not proud of what happened.  Infact I keep telling myself, if I had just kept the words to myself, not repeated them to her, she wouldn't have done it and no one would be hurt. Yes, I didn't do it with my own hands, but I triggered it. And I am terribly sorry for that. Now I can't help but wish I was still that 8 year old that could hear and see things and keep it all inside. It may have been unhealthy to me, but at least it didn't cause any longterm physical harm to anyone.

What can I say, you are not perfect, no one is. Hell if there is any imperfect blood in this family, it's me! I am just way out of the window when it comes to being good. But what happened was not a day's doing, or a week, or a month, it has been a lifetime. There has been heaps of reactions over the years for the various happenings in our family. Maybe if we could have handled the reactions then, things could have been different. But now this is a product of years of frustration. 

I hear your voice now. I remember the look in your eyes and the posture you held as you tried explaining yourself to me. A lot of what you said made sense. I couldn't help but wish we had had that conversation ten years ago. But we cant go back now, no one can. What is done is done, we have both made mistakes, and I do hope we will be able to get over all that and that finally I will be able to have a father again. I just realized that that day in your room, talking to you, you trying to understand what happened, that was the best moment in my whole life that I have ever spent with you. I wish there will be many others like that. But most of all, I hope that the dark mass that have separated us over the years can be lifted, slowly a day at a time with efforts from both side. I want to have a father. Not that I have not had a father, I just prefer that father who I saw that day. The father I felt I could talk to.

It took a vry terrible incident to make me see what I have seen now. It took someone's hurt for me to finally grow up. I am not proud of what I have done, most of it at least. And so I am taking this chance to tell you this.

I am sorry

This will not change much, I know. But I just felt I should say it.

I hope you get to read this in good time.

I love you father.