Write a diary entry in the perspective of a person after he finds out his daughter has betrayed him and run away.
April 23rd, 2022
Dear Diary,
An oppressive sea of darkness is suffocating me today. The overwhelming pain, disappointment, and betrayal that chokes my heart is beyond reason. For this very night, I discovered that my sweet, dear Anna has betrayed me and run away, leaving me in this unbearable state of devastation.
I never would have thought that my little girl, my pride and joy, could or would ever betray me, the father who raised her, the person who loved her unconditionally. My entire heart and soul was devoted to her, and it seems that meant nothing. Today, I feel shattered, like a tombstone eroded by the bitter winds of time, the engraving barely legible—representing the love and trust that had existed between us.
Who or what could have instigated her heart, poisoned her thoughts, or enticed her to forsake her family and home? Her departure was sudden, unexpected—a tidal wave crashing down upon me without any warning, leaving me gasping for air.
I searched her room this evening, desperately scouring the now-haunting silence of her sanctuary. That's when I found her letter, just barely catching sight of it tucked away in her jewelry box. The single page stared demonically at me as I read through her neatly penned confession of doubt for my love and understanding of her true emotions. She claims she could not face me, that fear drove her away into the arms of the unknown. The fact that my little girl thought that I wouldn't be there for her in her time of need is an unbearable realization.
But I must ask myself, am I truly innocent in this? Did I not pay enough attention and soak in small clues, signs warning me of the storm that was to come? Each moment floods back to me now, and I search desperately for a hint, a clue I might have missed, yet my mind remains fogged with the confusion of fate's cruel twist.
As the hours tick away, sleep eludes me, and my heart races in a panic. Where is my child? Is she safe? I fear the perils of this calloused world upon her fragile spirit. I long to reach out to her, to hold her and tell her that we can mend our relationship, that no matter what, she is still my beloved and cherished daughter.
Until then, every waking moment shall be consumed by the agony of knowing she is out there, far away from my caring embrace. And as I lay my head on my pillow tonight, I can't help but hope that she'll change her mind, that time will mend her heart, and that one day, she'll return home to me – back to where she belongs.
Yours in despair,
James