Little Fighter

I am not daddy’s little princess

It was now that I realized, I am not my daddy’s little princess. I am his warrior.

Many times when I was a kid, I thought, I am his little princess. The little girl he’d spoil with gifts, time and attention. The girl he’d take to parks, see the dolphins and watch fireworks with. The lady he’d dance with, teach about men and one day, walk down the aisle.

But the truth is, the girl wasn’t really meant to be a princess. She was meant to be a fighter. A warrior. He has always been preparing her for fight, for challenges and for the day he won’t be around anymore. So she was. She made her way through bullying, self-harm, broken friendships and loss of loved ones. She made it; with a strong heart, broken armor, scarred arms, bruised legs and damaged self-worth but she made it. It was all because he had prepared her.

You have never kept me from the real world; the struggles, crime and the perverse system we revolve in. You also taught me wrestling and we have always watched brutal documentaries. Although I joined with half-closed eyes and permanent disgust, it caught my interest. You sparked my love for mysteries and unsolved crimes. You have always protected me from boys and always saw the bad ones from the good ones but you still didn’t want any of them. I wish you were here when I had troubles knowing which is which and that’s why many times I end up with tears until finally I saw the difference. Now I think I’m in good hands.

You were a tough one; strict, disciplined and less affectionate but you have always, in your little and subtle ways, showed us how much you loved us. I am sorry for the countless moments I fell apart, scratched myself and almost gave up. I promise I will now be as strong as you are, for I only saw you cried once. I will make you proud for what I will become.

I am a fighter just like you, and I know now that whatever life may throw at me; I will never give up.

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