A letter from a daughter to the parent she still needs, even when she cannot always say it out loud.
I know you feel it — the space between us growing wider. The silence over dinner. The closed door. The quick “I'm fine.”
I feel it too. Some days, I want to crawl back into the warmth of your hug. Other days, I need to walk away just to hear my own thoughts.
I'm not being cold. I'm not ungrateful. I'm growing.
I Still Love You — Even When I Roll My Eyes
There are moments when your voice annoys me, your questions feel too much, and I'd rather be with friends or alone than at home.
But there are also moments when I crave your voice — your stories, your comfort, your approval. I might not always say thank you, but I notice. You still matter.
The World Feels Loud
Social media tells me I have to look a certain way. School tells me I have to achieve more. The world tells me to be bold, kind, smart, driven, obedient and beautiful — but not too much of anything.
Sometimes I lose track of who I am trying to be. When I feel lost, I do not always ask for help. That does not mean I do not need it.
I'm Figuring Out Who I Am
You taught me to speak up, so now I'm trying. Sometimes I'll get it wrong. Sometimes I'll push too hard. But this too is part of growing.
I'm learning how to be alone without being lonely, how to say no and mean it, how to make decisions and live with them, and how to exist in the world without apologising for it.
That's not rebellion. It's becoming.
What I Hope You Remember
I may not always open up, but I still want you to ask. I need space, but I also need to know you're there when I'm ready. I want you to trust me even when you're scared.
I want to be seen for who I'm becoming, not only who I used to be.
Even as I grow into someone new, I still carry pieces of you.
— Daughters of India