I despised my dad for most of my childhood, even though he was the only parent I had. He raised me alone and worked endlessly, yet our life always felt like a struggle. We lived paycheck to paycheck, counting every dollar, and I grew up painfully aware of what we lacked compared to others. At school, I watched friends show off new gadgets, clothes, and vacations, while I learned how to pretend I didn’t care. One day, when a friend excitedly talked about his brand-new iPad, something inside me snapped. I went home angry and hurt and said words to my father that still echo in my mind—accusing him of failing me because he couldn’t give me more. I saw his face fall, saw the pain he tried to hide, but pride kept me from apologizing.
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