For the longest time, I've hated you. I've hated watching my family being torn apart over and over again. I hated feeling helpless as the final words of "divorce" came out of your mouths. I hated the betrayal I felt by you. Because deep down, I always have been a "Daddy's Girl." I knew that changed in the moment on that day when you hid the truth. But I found out; because honesty and truth always find its way to the surface. Just as every wave crashes into the shore eventually, the tidal that had built up in me hit the shore hard, fast, and relentless; with the rising moon pulling the tide of hurt that was to come. For the longest time, I believed you; that you couldn't be the bad guy and go against our religion that my mother had sought the first time you walked out for an affair. I believed that you wouldn't break your vows of marriage and lie with another woman. I don't remember the first six years of what happened back and forth; although I do remember a tearful wife every two years after that. I remember her not divulging us until you sat me down in the hallway when I was eight, as I begged you to make it work.

Even so young, I think I knew what it was to cheat. I just didn't fully comprehend it. Not until the end of middle school did I hate you more for what followed those words. I'd lost my faith. I lost most hope. I lost my trust in men. I know I can't solely blame you, for it is I who chose what to do in the end; but I am also giving you credit where credit is due. I will also give you credit for dealing with my mother for as long as you did; albeit, while you cheated the entire time. I will give you credit for making her a peaceful being for awhile and not tell me the truth about what I was walking into with her. I want to give you credit for not giving up entirely on me or my brother at first. I know I was difficult filled with so much hate.

You and I haven't spoken for almost eight or nine years... I've lost track of hours, months, dates, and actual years. I do want to thank you, though: I want to thank you for making me cautious of men, thank you for realizing I need to smile as much as possible to hide any and all signs of pain, thank you for being so closed off that I wanted to open up to the world. I want to thank you for having my mind doubt all that could be real and true for me; to where I overthink everything, doubt most things, to where I'm now learning things later in life than most of my peers. I want to thank you for setting up my one moral rule I told myself over and over that I was bound to live by to never cheat, in conjunction with never helping someone cheat. For the first time in nine years, since I made that rule... I broke it.

I want to tell you now, I think I understand you just a little bit better. Although, I'm not condoning your actions just like that; I'm saying I might have an insight as to understanding the man I knew first in life. This boy -- this man, the one I broke my rule for... he's my first kiss; and a person I'm so scared to lose. I knew he had a girlfriend; I knew what he'd done in the past, still did on occasion. I knew because there was no need for lies between us as late night talks told all truth. But from the first moment when he muttered an, "Oh, to hell with it!" taking my face and grabbing it gently to kiss me, even as he was frustrated at my naivety? I felt an instant blank slate; before my mind started to panic. I went into his spare bedroom for about thirty or forty minutes, before he texted me that he wanted to apologize and I didn't have to go to bed so soon, we could have talked. My mind was so boggled. I couldn't think straight as I sat on his stairs.

All there was -- was him.

Only in the back of my mind did the level of the panic register of what could or could not happen. All I had was a state of mind where I couldn't think of anything else but him. I couldn't think of anything else as he lay down in his bed; boxer briefs on with his phone lighting up his face asking if I was going to join him or not. All I could think about was stripping down to my mismatched bra and underwear. All I could think of was trying to get my racing heart rate, unsteady breathing, and unstoppable muscle shaking under control. All I could process was the feeling of his skin, my embarrassment over not knowing what he wanted me to do. All I could absorb was the way he laughed at how fast he had my heart racing -- a lower throaty chuckle of his normal laugh. My head buried in his shoulder as I tried to breathe out, in, out, in, in, out. My muscles are shaking so bad.

"I can't control it," I mutter to him. He laughs again whispering deeply that he knows. I forgot all else but trying to get closer to his body, half atop of him. Nothing else was running through my head except trying to stop shaking, for he's not a threat. My mind only knew how happy I was when he told me to do it right as he dragged my curves to where I needed to be, and put his hands on my body, appreciating where he put me. My busy mind that you gifted me with, from years of nonstop trying to do everything and anything all at once; the mind that you taught me it was okay to be weird and think everything and anything out and through. It was completely blank. All there was -- was him; our bodies, my uncontrollable heart rate, shaking, and uneven breathing. The only thing was focusing on his words. Focusing on what his tattoo means, his laugh when I tell him I've been scared to ask him. Loving the fact that he knew his voice was helping me through this state of my panic attack and explained it. In my busy mind, nothing else was in existence. I realize now how many personal rules I broke that night. Rejecting personal rules, codes, and morals that no longer were in existence. His body reacting to mine while he started to shake under my body involuntarily; that's the point I no longer cared about the world. Nothing mattered as much as the look in his eyes as his hands roamed my body; no moral standing could beat the slight surprise in his voice as he discovered a whole side of me that I don't deem to share with anyone.

No doubts entered my mind as I lay by his side throughout the night -- listening to his deep breathing. No qualms about reality hit me as I rolled onto his shoulder and felt him wake as I finally fell asleep. Reality didn't set in for me until that weekend. I'd broken my biggest rule and so many rules I'd made to follow it. I don't regret one moment of that night with him. I know what I did was wrong, and there's no greater person that lectured me than myself. This letter to you is to let you know: I think I understand life and your choices a little better now. I wish there weren't all these secrets to be kept, though. I'd promised myself I'd never let myself follow in your footsteps, but I guess the saying is true. Like father, like daughter...

Except, I'm not you, I'm not my mother; I'm me. I accept what I did was something I should regret, and I'm not condoning either of our actions. I'm apologizing though for not trying to understand, I still don't understand fully myself. I guess that's a part of life, though, right?