A Letter To My Parents

I’ll never understand what I did wrong. 

What awful crime I committed simply by being born.

Did I cry too loudly? 

Ask too many questions?

Or did I take up too much space in our home?

One where love is rationed and silence praised?

Was it because I was the half you never wanted?

A twin, but never equal. Merely an afterthought. 

Two of us were born, but only one was receiving light. 

Two heartbeats, yet mine always skipped yours.

Was it easier to choose one to cherish? 

While casting the other in silent shadows?

Was I the unwanted echo you tried to silence?

The one who should’ve stayed quiet, invisible, unseen?

Did my presence split your affection?

Or was it proof that even love has limits?

Dad, 

How can you look at your own blood and see nothing but shame?

How can you spit venom at such an innocent child?

Was it really what you call “tough love”?

“You’re worthless. Roadkill. Incapable of anything.”

In your eyes, I was nothing but a rock in your shoe, 

a rug to be stepped on.

You let your anger feast on me

Raging like wildfire, 

But I was always the fuel. 

Each attempt I made to win your pride

Was met with cold, disapproving eyes,

Heavier sighs, 

And clenched fists

Not of flesh, but syllables

Sharp enough to break bone. 

You said my voice embarrassed you. 

So, I silenced it. 

You said I was a burden. 

So, I shrank. 

You said I was nothing. 

So, I believed you.

But here’s what you didn’t know: 

Even crushed seeds sometimes still bloom. 

And Mom, 

I looked to you for rescue, 

For softness, 

For arms that wrapped rather than restrained. 

But you stood on the sidelines, 

Your silence screaming louder than his rage. 

I watched your lips tremble, 

Your eyes glaze over, 

But you never stepped between me and the fire.

You claim I’m your mini-me, 

But you refused to protect your reflection. 

Did you believe him, too? 

Did you echo his words in your head? 

Nodding in approval behind closed doors? 

Was it fear that kept you frozen, 

Or was my pain just easy to ignore? 

Twenty-three years. 

That’s how long I spent. 

Trying to earn love you never would’ve meant. 

Trying to change myself 

Trying to be someone you wouldn’t hate. 

As I’ve grown older, I’ve come to see, 

Maybe some parents are not teachers of love. 

Maybe they are warnings. 

Maybe they are mirrors of wounds they never healed. 

Maybe they were taught to raise children like punching bags,

To keep us humble,

To keep us quiet, 

To keep us small. 

Maybe parents are not meant to be protectors. 

Maybe they’re the first to teach us betrayal.

Maybe they’re meant to break us 

Before the world ever gets the chance. 

But here’s where your legacy ends. 

I do not carry your hate as an inheritance. 

I will not plant your words into the soil of my future. 

I will not nurture myself the way you failed to. 

Instead, 

I will heal. 

Louder than your insults. 

Softer than your silence. 

Bigger than your love ever was. 

I write this not for pity, 

Not for permission, 

But for closure

Only for myself.

Because though you taught me pain, 

I learned power. 

And though you tried to silence me, 

You taught me how to be loud. 

And though you tried to restrain me, 

You taught me to find my strength. 

And though you tried to break me, 

You only sharpened me. 

Your refusal to love me only made me love harder. 

I love myself. 

I love this world. 

So, if this letter is the letter you’ll never read, 

Let it be the one I needed to write.

Let it serve as a reminder that 

I survived you. 

And that alone makes me whole.