To my dear beautiful daughter.

I’m writing you a letter. That’s right, a good ole fashioned letter. It’s a lost art really, like hand jobs. I have a confession to make; I didn’t like you very much at first. You were just this annoying little blah. You smelled nice…most of the time, but you didn’t seem to have much interest in me. Which I of course found vaguely insulting. It was just you and your mom against the world. Funny how some things never change. So I cruised along doing my thing and acting the fool, not really understanding how being a parent changes you. And I don’t remember the exact moment everything changed, I just know that it did. One minute I was impenetrable, nothing could touch me. The next, my heart was somehow beating outside of my chest – exposed to the elements. Loving you has been the most profound, intense, painful experience of my life. In fact it’s been almost too much to bear. As your father, I made a silent vow to protect you from the world, never realizing that I was the one who would end up hurting you most. When I flash forward my heart breaks, mostly because I can’t imagine you speaking of me with any sort of pride. How could you? Your father is a child in a man’s body; he cares for nothing and everything at the same time. Noble in thought, weak in action… Something has to change. Something has to give. It’s getting dark, too dark to see.