although you have thought me honesty, you will never know me. although you have trusted me, I have betrayed it. Although you taught me to grow in beauty, love and all the sweetness in the world, I fear you will be disappointed.
For fear of disappointing you; you and the rest of the world will never know it. Almost like the homosexual who hides himself, not in fear that people will know who he really is but in fear for your fear. He isn’t protecting himself. He is protecting you.
The world that you’ve created, the dreams that you’ve dreamt for me, the wants that you’ve made me think I did.
In a world where daughters stay home, and love should be unseen, where Christians never party and dancing is a sin. In two worlds as far as my dreams are to me, that’s where we are.
Like stars gazing at each other, strangers brought together only because they are under the same big galaxy, never crossing paths.
I fear not that you will be disappointed. But that you will think it your fault.
And hence such will be the fate of mothers and daughters. Of yours and mine. Of you never knowing that I’ve written you this, and perhaps never knowing me for who I am rather than who I should be. And yet perhaps deep inside you already know, but in your generosity you are still trying to make me into that someone.
and perhaps, most likely, in a star as far as yours is from mine, you too have written a letter similar to this one.
Yours, no matter what,