“Where’s the wild girl I remember? The girl who danced in the rain and would crawl onto the roof so I didn’t have to be alone on the bad nights?” They’ve molded that girl into a pawn. And I hate that for her. We’ve never fought, but suddenly my urge to fight for her consumes my better judgment. “Your dad is an asshole. He cares about himself. His business. Optics. Not your happiness. You deserve better.” I could do better. That’s what I really want to say. That’s what I’ve realized sitting here tonight.
