not for daddy's girl @ boy

I WAS a daddy's girl.
my dad WAS the very definition of a hero to me.

WAS=past tense.

in other words, NO MORE am I a daddy's girl. NO MORE is he a hero to me.

13 years. 13 years and counting. I am comfortable leading my life fatherless. now, don't go into that oh-she-lost-her-beloved-dad-to-a-tragic-death mode yet. my dad is still alive. yeap. he is still breathing, doing his own thang. he is not in a good shape, he is sick, he is my dad.

13 years before...
perfect family... or so I thought. mom, dad, sis (my kid bro is still in the making) and me. my dad was a really funny guy. he spoilt me endlessly. I was the apple of his eye. I was as close to him as close can be. never wish to have anybody else's dad. I followed him everywhere he went, even to work. cried when he wasn't there with me. fell sick when he was gone for more than 3 days. called him every seconds, every minute, every hour, every day just to tell him what i've been doing. my dad, my hero.

and one day...
he had been gone for more than a week. for business, I've been told. I called his office every single day to check when he will be coming home. his secretary said "I don't know. ask your mama." I asked. every single day until one day, mama herself called his office. maybe I was too young, was clueless about grown-ups. but the look on mama's face... I knew something wasn't right.

no more adoration, no more faith, no more daddy-hero thing... no more love. betrayal. such a painful betrayal... suddenly dad is the villain...

it hurts until today, until this very moment, to even think about it. I've been denying the hurt I felt since. I said, "what done is done. there is nothing I can do about it." thought time itself will wash away all the pain and the memory, but no. everytime I see his face, it opens old wounds. even added some fresh one. I told my friends, "I forgive him, but I definitely won't forget." it was a lie. I never did forgive him. and I am sure as hell won't forget it. why live with the past? some people might ask. well, the past makes me who I am today. the past reminds me never to love too much...

but then again, living with the blasted past gives him victory. I want him to be sorry for the betrayal. I want him to know that I can live without him. I don't want him to come back. I just want him to look back and thought, "just what have I missed for the past 13 years." bloody hopes. he doesn't even care. I know. he's my dad, after all.

anak derhaka? well... too bad... I don't give a damn. Ever. Period.