To my home, Papa

I'm trying to put a better birthday greeting for you today, because this is how I've expressed my feelings through the years, on your special day. Most of the people know that we're close, that I'm a Papa's girl and all. Yes, they're definitely right. We've talked about a myriad of things already: various decision-making for our family, my past relationships (though of course not in detail when they ended), politics, sports, and just life in general. However, it's true that the simple ones are even harder to say out loud, such as "I love you" and "Thank you."

I initially did not intend to write this piece for you today because I thought, what else should I say? We've been literally stuck together for almost a year already, to the point that we even get annoyed by each other's nuances, expressions, voice, and even silence, at times. Yet, I realized that even though we're physically co-existing, we barely talked as deep as we used to be. Yeah, like those days when I'd just go home during weekends.

It's not that bad, I know. I'm unsure if you probably noticed by now that I'm not so extraverted anymore. I prefer being in solitude, enjoying my peace without talking to anyone more often than not. I just have those days, when I prefer to be left unbothered, which usually come off as me being an agitated b*tch, suplada, or mataray. I admit I really am though, but I hope you're getting my point here.

Anyway, enough with my defense mechanism being at its peak. I just want to immortalize how I appreciate you, in this writing. I thought that I used to be so cheesy and sweet with my previous romantic relationships, because I just wanted to express the way they make me feel. So why not I do it for you too, my first and eternal love, right?

As I scrolled through our previous text messages, I just couldn't help but be grateful. You may seem like a strict father to others, because you've always been so inquisitive whenever I have a night-out, usually over drinks, with friends. They also got used to me saying that you're waiting for me anywhere, any time, because you said you'd fetch me as it's late already. But what they didn't know is that even at first (when I was in high school, specifically) it was suffocating to me, I've come to appreciate it. They're your love language, I know. I'm fully aware by now that you just wanted me to be safe, since we're living in a harsh reality. And eventually, after all the sulking before, I've come to accept your gestures.

I appreciate the way you get concerned about me by asking every night if I already got home after work. I also miss those moments when you'd ask me to take you out to lunch or dinner, my treat, or vice-versa. I value how you've been so understanding of my shortcomings, telling me that I can do better next time. I cherish the 'K' messages that you send me after updating you of how my day went, or when you said that it's okay and I can find another job after I told you I was made redundant from work. And the list goes on.

Now, it makes me wonder again, if I'll be able to find a partner like you in the future? Or (I'm sorry to break it to you) should I be contented in growing old alone, thus crashing you and Mama's dream of having an apo someday? Because I'm already accepting that it might be my fate. Well, I'll keep on hoping for the former, but you should brace yourself more for the latter.

Let me cut to the chase.

Happy Birthday, Papa! I'm sorry for being the cause of your headache at times. I'll strive to be more patient and understanding with you and our family, as well as myself. I hope you feel my love between these lines.

You're my rock, my shield, my gem beyond compare.

You're one of the reasons I look forward to every passing of the day.

You're my home, always.

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