she's right. i haven't given up the fact that i do not have a daddy--at least one on earth. i'm still clutching that bottle with a secret message corked inside. the one that clearly depicts the carnage of my heart. the one that i want its ugliness to evade absolutely all. holding on, it's what i do. but you know what? i am done. i don't want to sweep the problems under the rug anymore. i want to face up to things, and grow. no more lying to yourself, to me, to anyone. i want truth, truth that is hard, but oh so freeing. i'm seventeen years old; no more pretending. you are fifty-five. that ended years ago. but something superficial still permeates every millimeter of your words, actions, love. apparently it hasn't ended for you; that's a shame. because of that, you're going to get nowhere fast. and guess what? you've already started that dark journey. i wish i could help you, but i can't. you won't listen. all i can do is help myself.

so here i am still clutching that bottle with a secret message corked inside. but if you look again, i'm kneeling down... the bottle is gone now and my heavenly father has taken his rightful place as abba, father. this is something i've never done before--have a father-daughter relationship--but i think it'll be good. he'll teach me how this works. it'll be real and finally fulfilling. and maybe one day, i'll have something like this on earth, too. with my real father.