Assertion- My father told me I was fat

This article by Cherie tells of her childhood of abusive emotional things from her father that she believed until her father's suicide, when she realized his weakness and her strength. She has clear ethos because this is her experience, and pathos is a strong element with her greif and then self-discovery.

Dear Diary,           

I know that I can write to you, because you will listen. And you won’t beat me up if I say the wrong thing, like Daddy does. I thought he would be proud. I studied so hard for that science test. All night long, all day long, practically. I even skipped lunch to go to the library, which is saying something. But I got a B. A stupid B! So close to an A! So, so close. But not close enough for him. He said I was stupid tonight again. I wish mom were still here. She wouldn’t think that. I’m going to end up in a life without anything or anyone. My dad said I’m so fat and ugly, I’ll never have a husband. It’s true. I look in the mirror, and I see that he’s right! There is no one for me out there. And nothing. Dad’s breath smelled funny to night. I don’t really know why. Maybe tonight I’ll dream about that prince again. The one from the movies. He’s so nice to all the girls, even the ugly, stupid, fat, lazy ones like me.

Cherie

 

Dear Diary,

I was wrong. The weird thing is, I’m admitting it. But you know what? It feels good. It feels great, actually. I always thought that I knew everything was my fault. I blamed myself for what I felt. I felt so ugly, so fat, unlike all the other girls. I felt stupid even when my grades were high; they should have been better. All the work I did, the home work, my chores at the house, and I was still convinced I was lazy. My father mademe believe these things, and I thought my future was hopeless. Now I know it wasn’t me. It was him. He was the one so ugly inside to lash things out on his daughter. He stabbed my thoughts with a sword of his own pain. Today I learned that he took a gun to his head, ending his own life. HE was the one without hope. It wasn’t me. It never was. And that’s why today, I make the oath to myself (and to you, Diary) that the rest of the world will see my beauty.

Signed, Cherie.