To the girl I used to be,

Firstly I'm sorry. I know it doesn't mean a lot, but it's all I can say. You were and still are the strongest person I've ever known, when you were six years old you were exposed to the harsh cruelness of the world. Forced to grow up before your time, to learn things no six year old should have to learn.

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Your mother left to go work in a city two hours away. Your father was diagnosed with cancer. You were forced to grow up alone. Yes they tried their hardest to shield you from the truth, but you weren't as gullible as they hoped. But you acted fine, because you knew they were doing everything they could.

Your mother didn't want to leave, you knew she took no joy in leaving her six year old daughter. But she had to pay the bills and she worked her ass off. She called you everyday and tried her hardest to be their for you, but it's hard when you live 127km away.

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And your dad. Now he was a fucking hero. Diagnosed with cancer when you were four, told he was gonna die. But he fought, for you. So you wouldn't grow up without a dad. He worked a 9 - 5 job, but still managed to do everything for you, be everything for you. To be the best dad he could be and he was.

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But despite their incredible efforts, you still felt alone. That pang when you saw your classmates with their mums everyday when you hadn't seen yours in two months. The anxiety when you stayed up all night, waiting for your dad to come out of the ER. The stress of being independent when you were six. Doing your own hair, staring at your textbook for hours until it finally made sense, finishing assignments without their help and managing to retain an A average. Crying alone in your bedroom at night, because of the girl who was mean to you at school. Staying strong.

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But you still turned out to be the happiest, funniest and the most full of life girl ever. Despite the pain you endured, you radiated sunshine and happiness and everyone that knew you loved you.

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When you were twelve, you mum finally came back home after six years, your dads illness was fine. You met your bestfriend, school was great. For one year, everything was perfect.

But apparently the world thought you hadn't suffered enough...

Your thirteen now. Your dad got sick. Really sick. He died within three months. You can't explain the hurt you feel . . . You lost the one person who had fought for you, done everything for you, the one person who made you feel less alone. And it fucking sucked. It felt like you were trapped in a glass case, silently watching as your family fell apart, as you fell apart. Watching without being able to anything.

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But the world had given you shit before and you had prevailed. So you tried to the same. I tried to be the same. I tried to be the girl I used to be. But am now realising, that when I lost my dad, I lost the old me too. I used to be my own light in my world of darkness, but I now realise that my dad was the oxygen that fueled my flame. And without him, my light flickered out. And here I am left stumbling around blind in the dark. My happiness is a forgery, my optimism is fake, my strength is hoax. I'm trying to be fine, but it's all a lie; a facade. I've become the ghost of the person I used to be.

And I'm so fucking sorry about it.

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But I just want you to know, I'm trying. I'm trying to be my own oxygen. To ignite my flame once again, to be the light.

I am trying and that's all I can do :)