Dear Hero,
I've always looked up to you, ever since I could breathe. You're my hero, and always will be. I remember how, whenever we went out to visit family, they would look at you and I, and say, "She's looking more and more like her Daddy every day." And it made me proud. I love you, so much, and always will. I try to do everything perfect, though I know I'm nothing close. I want to make you proud. It's just who I am.
But when you look down on me and complain that I'm not good enough, and that my talents are pathetic because they aren't what you want them to be, that pride I have in you disappears. I'm sorry that I'm into music, and you aren't. Just because music isn't what you want me to be great in, doesn't mean you have to force your ideas down my throat. Maybe I don't want to be just like you anymore. That doesn't mean you get to throw a hissy-fit and criticize everything that I take pride in. If you don't like my drawings, or music, or photography, that doesn't give you the right to crush me and make me run.
Think about that the next time you tell me that I should give up, when I've won numberous contests for my artwork. Don't expect me to forget this, Daddy. I'm not dirt. I'm not weak and pathetic and everything else you called me. I'm not five anymore. I'm gonna yell back when you yell at me for drawing instead of running.
Thanks for everything you've given me Daddy.
Lots of Love,
Me.