letter to dad


hey dad,

that love you have for me, I fear it.
It burns too hot, too bright, too strong. I can’t look at it without being blinded right now.

I fear that my love for you is just a reflection of yours, the way the moon is lit by the sun. I fear that it’s not enough. In years time when you’re gone and I’m all that’s left of you, I fear I’ll look back and think “I didn’t do enough.” That I’ll be labeled as a “bad son” that didn’t have enough empathy for their parents. What will happen then?

I fear that your love, so concentrated, is going to the wrong place. I fear you strangling me with your love when you’re too scared to let me go. When I spread my wings and get ready to leave, you pin me down and refuse to let go of the only thing you have. The guilt of leaving you behind, of leaving everything you so meticulously laid out for me, is starting to be too much to bear.

There’s this growing feeling of leaving everything behind and starting somewhere new. I want to ignore it, to say that its bad, but I can’t bring myself to. I don’t know what to do anymore.

What would you do here dad?