I hate how you always make sense. I know what I did today was despicable, and evident that I surely have never heard of filial piety. I know that everything I do, every decision I make, I never spared a thought for you and your feelings. I'm so sorry that I've wronged you in the most cruel way possible. I'm so sorry that I've grown up not to become a demure young lady but a rude insolent daughter. I'm so sorry that everything you've taught me, everything you've told me, all fell on deaf ears. I keep shutting you out from my world these days, and I know it's just so wrong. I know I've ceased to be that daughter you once knew and loved. Everytime you see me walk into the house, I sense your pain. I can imagine you worrying about me and I'm terribly sorry that you had to go through these when all you should be doing is simply worry about yourself and your health. I'm sorry for what happened on New Year's eve two years ago. I'm sorry that I am the main cause for your negligence towards your health. I wish I could say all these to you, but my ego tells me to hold it in. I barely tell you how much I love you. And I hardly hug you. I wish you'd still kiss me good night before I go to bed. But I'm too old for that now, aren't I?