#yuuuki

I want you to know that I love you.

We’ve had our rough moments where we’re at each other throats. I’ve always acted colder, more condescending to you — ever since I was a little kid. I remember, how meanly I posed this question to my neighbor when we were only in the first and second grade:

"Who do you love more? Your mom or your dad?"

It was cruel, but when I asked that question to my friend, I had already formed my own answer without a second of hesitation: I love my dad more. 

Dad was stricter while you were kinder. But as much as I feared Dad, I also revered him and sought his approval. To me, your existence seemed less worthy of respect. Granted, Dad did spend more time with me than you did, trying to teach me as much as he could cram into my little brain (although he’d always lose his temper because I wasn’t learning or thinking fast enough). Dad was far more opinionated than you, and whatever he said influenced me. He did badmouth you to me a lot whenever you did something that made him mad. I grew up seeing things from his point of view, or at least the way his words painted it. His sharp tongue became mine, and before I knew it, I found myself in a perpetual state of irritation when in your presence. When you nagged for me to do something, I talked back. I criticized your hypocrisy, just as Dad had before. You retaliated. I grew defensive and colder. And so it went.

But now, I realize that I was wrong. Harsh words sometimes came out of Dad’s mouth, but he loves all of us. The stories and criticisms I heard from Dad weren’t lies, but they were exaggerations. Sure, some of the comments about your hypocrisy are very true, and some of the things you do irritate Dad and me for good reason. But ultimately, both of you have your shortcomings and both of you are too stubborn to admit it. Knowing this, I regret having sided with Dad for as long as I have; as much as I love him, it was unfair.

Still, out of habit, I become needlessly impatient with you. And you become impatient with me. We continue to have little quarrels about stupid things; both of us too stubborn to relent. But slowly, I’m trying to give up my stubborn ways, and let go of my pride.

Because I’ve noticed how far unconditional love can go. How, just 24 hours after a bitter argument that leaves the both of us fuming, we can sweetly talk about the weather and appreciate little things in life together. How you earnestly try to give me life advice when I ask for it, even after I’ve ignored you in the past.

Mom, I love you.

Thank you for the past 18 years.

Love,