Dear Maa and Papa,
I don't know how to say this, but at least I can say that today I mildly understand how the people during the revolt of 1857 may have felt like because this letter - it feels like a war. A war between who I really am and who you think I am. But today I promise I will end this.
I still remember when Didi got her first gold medal in that science Olympiad and decided that she wanted to be an engineer, everybody was so happy and proud of her, I was too, but what nobody knows is that I had stood first in the debate competition that day. While everybody was celebrating her academic excellence, I was terrified, because calculus scared me and trigonometry went over my head, but looking at your bright faces I was too scared to tell you that I loved to romance with words. Especially when the only words I could hear that day were marks and percentages.
Next thing I remember I took up science just to see you pleased, but alas for someone who bleeds on paper, counting numbers on hand was a way more difficult task than I had imagined, so all my plans were backfiring on me and life looked like some YouTube fails compilation. More than your happy faces I could see looks of disappointment and how my 6 digit rank looked like a failure all over when compared to Didi's 6 digit salary package.
But I don't blame either of you, because maybe all of this is in my head, and you don't want to burden me, but you never asked me to step out either. This pretense for me is getting hard now. How long can a person pretend to be drowned in Kekule's benzene structures when their heart is stuck at Shakespeare.
I know you both deserve a better daughter than me, and I'm trying my level best to give you that, but maybe I still fail to understand all of it, or maybe it's just that you don't.
After 26 failed attempts and 57 burnt letters of me trying to tell the both of you how I actually feel, I finally had a chance to gather up all of my courage, ounce by the ounce to speak out the truth,
Today in school they asked us to write an essay on that one person, who we aspire to be like; everybody was...
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