What was my sin?
I was too young to understand
that I had lost my mother.
Before I could know her voice,
I knew her absence.
I grew up watching other children
run to their fathers,
ask for little things,
laugh, complain,
And receive the love
they never had to ask for.
I watched them and quietly wondered—
Why not me?
My father was alive,
but he was an absent father.
He never accepted me
the way a daughter longs to be accepted by her father.
And somewhere inside me,
a question grew—
What was my sin?
Was it my fault that I lost my mother
When I was only an infant?
Was it my fault
that my father could not love me?
Whom could I ask?
I never found the words.
So many wishes,
so many feelings,
so many little dreams
Were buried beneath a pile of silence.
I never had the childhood
I imagined.
But I had my grandparents.
They became my guardians,
my home, my strength.
Even at twenty,
when I break down over the things I never had,
They remain beside me.
I have failed.
I have fallen.
But when I was broken, they were not.
They kept believing in me.
So I continued my studies.
I kept dreaming.
Today, I want to write
What I could never say aloud.
Perhaps I will never know why
I was denied the love I deserved.
But I know this now—
I was only a child.
I did nothing wrong.
And the girl who once had no words
now has a pen.
With it, I will finally tell
the story of my life.
Thanks.
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