Letter to Cambodia

Hey, Dad.
It’s me, the ghost from your past.
The past you are dying to forget about.

It’s been more than two decades since our very last encounter and I wrote this letter not because I missed you, but because I actually have no one to talk to. Some people suggest me I should pray to God, but I don’t know which one I should talk with since I think there’s plenty of Gods. I’ve learnt a lot about it because I tried to forget a lot of things and pour knowledge on my head instead of the bad things on earth have done to me.

I wonder how have you been, heard you’re doing just fine as a taxi driver and living with the wife you chose over us.

I believe you have no idea how do I look like.
I am around five foot three, moderately skinny because my work force me to be fit, my skin is tan, people told me I look like Pocahontas. I always find it very funny when people told me that. Currently I‘m 22 years old and I think if you see me, you will be amazed on how much I’ve grown. I can tell I am pretty because I worked as a model in the city I was born and also in the island where people usually go to vacation in Indonesia. I am planning to go to Hongkong, London, and Korea if God lets me to be a mere-successful beauty model. Sounds pretty awesome, right? But it’s actually plans for now, since I have no idea how to pick my shit together and actually work on my ladder to make that plan happen.

I live on my own since I got out from high school and started to work, because Mama told me she can’t afford to pay my tuition so I tried to work and go to the college at the same time. I took two majors, in two different universities, but I only got one bachelor degree since the other major is too expensive for my liking.

I can’t really tell I am smart, but I really like books and I love to learn a lot of things. I could speak four languages in total and made a lot of friends that speaks those languages. I can’t speak Mandarin though even though it’s supposed to be the language I should master since you’re Chinese. But you’re never here, so yeah, I have zero knowledge about that beside the curse words.

I have hobbies. I’m a girl with long hair who likes to clean my room as neat as possible. I like playing video games that disturbs my head. Most of the time I hang out with the boys killing people on the virtual battlefield. I like reading, a lot. I can tell I’m a bibliophile since I love the smell of the books even though it looks nasty. The more yellow it gets, the better it smells for me. I like watching Japanese animation, I like playing skateboard, surfing, but my favorite is playing guitar though. So far I’ve mastered hundreds of my favorite songs and I learn it all by myself. My favorite band is Guns N Roses, they are the one who inspired me to play guitar.

I inherit your hobby in arts — painting. Well, you’re more of an illustrator though. I made roughly twenty-three paintings so far and I only kept the best four to myself and sell the rest. It’s abstract though, I am not as talented as you are when it comes to drawing. I still remember Mama said you can make a copy of Disney characters from a grid paper and color pencils just by your hands.

For boys talk… well I actually am in a very confusing relationship with this foreign man. He’s six years older than me but he’s very nice, and cute too. I met him from a two days video-shoot project two years ago and we just suddenly decided to go out together. I love him a lot, and sometimes he said he does too.

He left my country to his on our first year of relationship. I went to his country a month later after his departure to show that I am super serious about him, mainly because I was in pain of missing him so much. He has trust issues after a girl cheated on her when he was my age. I feel sad for him. But I don’t trust men that much, mainly because of you, Dad.

The trip went amazing, I met new people. Pale faces always looking at me like I am sort of fancy prize. Highlight of that all is, I met my boyfriend’s mom. She’s super sweet and kind, beautiful too. I feel insecure standing next to her, no wonder my boyfriend looks like he was made when God was smiling. She likes flowers and cooking, baked me a very dreamy taste tiramisu. Before I left she even sent me gifts, how thoughtful of her. I gave her 23 white-pinkish colored roses in return, for good luck.

When I went back home from my eastern Europe trip, another man came into my life and somehow I thought I could tie a relationship with him while my man is gone for a while. But then the ghost from his past came back, so I just leave him without words. He’s nice though, I wished him the best.

Now, we’re going to talk about serious matter.

Mama got married again when I was almost six years old, they got divorced when I graduated from high-school. The only conclusion I can say is — those eleven years living together with him is equivalent as eleven millennia living in hell.

I’m not going to tell a lot of details but he hit Mama, a lot. Mama fights sometimes, but a lot of times she just ran away, taking me and my brother — your son, to where ever the road take us and not coming back for days. I spent the eve of my national exams from elementary, junior, and high-school with them fighting. I am always sleep deprived because I couldn’t sleep, both of them argue every three times a week. I have three half-siblings from him because he doesn’t let Mama abort the babies. Even after mentally, physically, and spiritually abusing her, he still have time to do the same to all of us, in different manners.

Dad, he did something very terrible to me when I only just know him for two weeks.

He raped me.
When I was six years old.
It’s your fault that I had to face this desolation from a very young age.

I didn’t understand it was wrong, nobody told me anything about it. I let him did terrible things to me every night he went to my bed. I’ve said no a lot of times, and I got punched in the face as the prize. I bleed a lot but I always clean it before the sun rises, I don’t want Mama to know. Sometimes he pinched my skin until it turns black. People on my school asked why, I lied saying I fell from a bicycle. Punchline: I don’t even have one.

I finally have courage when I was ten years old to report what he did to the police, but did you know what did they told me in return? They told me to dress appropriately. I always wear long sleeves and short over my knees everyday inside or outside the house. This evil still find his way to touch my barely looking breast and ass anyways. At this time, Mama still don’t know, but I told her when I was fifteen. She and I went to the same police station to report the case. We almost got him, but the law is weaker than money, as it always have been in this country.

Long story short, at that time we are unable to get out and I need to endure all the agony he put us all through, because you fucking left us to rot in the first place. But finally, we are free after I graduated from high-school. I have to be the one who searched for money so all my siblings can live a happy life. I don’t want them to experience the shit I’ve been through. Both of you in law and nature are father to your children, but you guys turns out to be pieces of useless fucking shit who walked freely without weight on earth.

I reserved very special places in the deepest part of hell for you two though, don’t worry. Life is unfair for me, but it seems fair enough for you both to breathe. I can’t and will never, ever accept it.

Imagining you laughing even for a nanosecond makes me sick, you don’t deserve it.

I found a lot of therapists who are supposed to help me to be normal again, but they didn’t succeed in the end. I went to several mental hospitals to find out what’s really happening and I got PTSD and Depression as the result of what that lowlife did to me. Mama knows I went to hospital but she didn’t know about the nights I went through to make me forget about what he did.

Besides reading and filling my head with a lot of science, I slept with a lot of men too. Most of them are around your age who are divorcees and happens to be a very successful businessman from around the world. I used them to erase the traces that lowlife left on my body, I also use their wealth for my personal gain. I am not a needy girl, I just ask them for thousands of dollars when it’s really matter of life and death. I use the money from my job for making Mama’s life more comfortable because she deserve a rest, even though for now I just got fired and the job is not looking pretty well for me.

I am planning to make some meetings with the modelling agencies in town so I can start working. I am actually sick and I really want to kill myself, but Mama has been asking me for a lot of money than I can imagine even though I already told her I couldn’t give it. Seems like making her a bit comfortable is a wrong movement too.

So yeah, that’s all.

I am not hoping you will be alive and well. I really hope you die so awfully that people won’t recognize your face, to be honest.

You ruined my life.
But I guess that’s what I deserve because I ruined yours too when you found out Mama had me in her womb.

Friendly reminder, it’s still your fucking fault.




God of the wind in Japanese folklore.

Love podcasts or audiobooks? Learn on the go with our new app.

Recommended from Medium

Ask Better Questions.

How Desperation Influences Your Perception

Surviving Toxicity, Preserving my Energy

Woe is me — why we need to stop to thinking it’s all about us

What’s The Most Difficult Thing You Went Through in Life?

My Childhood Crush

A birthday card with the picture of a door that has a sign “Do Not Enter”

I Don’t Need Your Half Hearted Love

Get the Medium app

A button that says 'Download on the App Store', and if clicked it will lead you to the iOS App store
A button that says 'Get it on, Google Play', and if clicked it will lead you to the Google Play store


God of the wind in Japanese folklore.

More from Medium

Dare to live…

These Words Will Take You A Long Way

The Dust Devil Chaser of Amboseli