I'm sorry for willing to put up with all those beatings although a few drops of blood had trickled down my skin for a few times already.
I'm sorry for trying to please you both too much that I had spoilt you.
I'm sorry for changing for the better and listening to your every command that I forgot my brain's own commands.
I'm sorry for feeling sad when I'm ignored at home.
I'm sorry for feeling down when whatever I am so dwelt in is criticised so badly by you, day after day.
I'm sorry for accidently raised my voice for a few seconds (I swear it was a few seconds) when I feel that my points of view are actually pointless when they are cut off too frequently. In fact, I don't think they even matter to you.
I'm sorry for getting major depression after my near-death experience as well as what seemed like an endless damnation.
I'm sorry for keeping my mouth shut and not retaliating when being nagged around.
I'm sorry for wanting my personal time sometimes.
I'm sorry for crying when my heart feels like it and not having my sad face on a billboard for all of you to see, just because I don't want to hassle you with my own problems because I understand that you have your own affairs to handle.
Finally, I'm sorry for being just another human and perhaps a daughter that isn't good enough for you, but I am grateful for whatever Allah tests me with, because I know I'll get stronger. I'm grateful that I inherited patience from Ayah, but I have my own limits as well and before I end up killing myself, I'd rather run away from my stressors for awhile. I'm still rational, Alhamdulillah. Astaghfirullah... Astaghfirullah... Astaghfirullah...