For seven years, I traveled alone and never came home. This home, for me, is a place of pain and fear. I used to hate this place, and I hated that man, my father.
I remember how he looked, fifty years old, with wrinkles and vicissitudes on his face. His eyes always reveal a kind of ** and indifference, as if the whole world is against him. His hands were covered with thick calluses, which were the marks of gambling. He was always surrounded by a group of gamblers who drank, played cards, and argued together as if that was all there was to their lives.
I grew up living in such a family, and I was enveloped by domestic violence and gambling on a daily basis. My father never cared about me, he only thought about winning and losing at the table. Whenever he loses money, he gets mad at me. I was scarred all those years, but I never complained to anyone. Because I know that no one in this world will sympathize with me, no one will stand up for me.
Seven years ago, I decided to leave this home, to leave this place that was suffocating me. I embarked on a journey alone and began a long wandering life. I've traveled through countless cities and villages, and I've seen all kinds of people and things. Sometimes I spend long nights on the train, and sometimes I sleep on unfamiliar streets. During those years, I found a job in a bustling city and helped farmers harvest rice in remote mountain villages. Every trip and experience has made me more mature and stronger.
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I met a lot of people along the way. There were kind old people who showed me the way, and enthusiastic young people who helped me carry my luggage. Once, I met an old woman in a remote town. After hearing my story, she invited me to stay in her home for a while. She told me a lot of stories and memories about my hometown, which made me feel the warmth and beauty of home.
However, no matter how far I go, the shadow of that home always accompanies me, and the face of that man always lingers in my mind. Whenever there is a dead of night, I think of my father's ** eyes and cold palms. Those memories pierced my heart like a sharp knife.
Until one day, I received a letter. The letter said that my father was seriously ill and bedridden and that he had been waiting for me to come home. I don't know if it's true or not, but I decided to go back and see. After all, he was my father, and I couldn't let him walk this journey alone.
When I returned to my hometown, everything changed. The dilapidated old house is no longer there, replaced by a new building. The yard is full of flowers and trees, and it looks vibrant. My father has lost a lot of weight, and there are many wrinkles on his face, but the ** and indifference in his eyes still haven't disappeared.
As soon as we met, he was ready to beat me up. He said that I was a disgrace to my family and the biggest failure of his life. He said I should have died at his hands that night seven years ago, instead of running away from this home. He said that I was an unfilial daughter who dared to abandon her biological father.
I didn't contradict him because I knew he was telling the truth. I used to hate him to the core, and all my memories of him are domestic violence and gambling. At that moment, I decided to let go of my past grievances and start my life anew. I want to tell the world in my own way that I am not a victim of my father, I am my own master. I want to prove with my hard work and sweat that I can live the life I want.
It's just my hometown, and it's been my passerby ever since. I decided to immigrate to Dali and start a new life. There is the beautiful Erhai Lake, the ancient city, the warm sunshine and the fresh air. I'm going to find my place there, my future.
This year, I want to go to Dali, that is my home in this world, but also my beautiful yearning, I want to say goodbye to the pain and fear of the past, welcome the hopes and dreams of the future, I want to tell myself to pursue it bravely, to embrace your dreams, to realize the value of your life!
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