"Open the door!" my dad hits on the door, shaking the whole frame. He hit it so hard that I thought his fist had gone through.

                I quickly stood up, leaving my knitting kit behind. When I unlocked it, a bad alcohol smells went in my nostril. My dad walked in unstable, almost knocked me over.

                "Dad, you're drunk again!" I held on him, closing the door. But he thrown me away, "Go away." he mumbled, as he plopped on the sofa.

                Once, he used to be a cheerful man. Or should I say, a cheerful DAD. People respect him, looked up on him. He used to be a masculine guy, with all the muscle pop out from his tan skin. To be say, he is everywoman’s dream guy. I used to be flattered when people praised my dad. As a daughter, I am proud to have a dad like him.

                And for my mum, she showered me with love and care, with her sweet smile and warm hug. Every morning, she'll prepare breakfast for my family. Not just a simple one, the one and only cakes that ONLY she can make. She promised to teach me her secret recipe cake. I never get bored of it.

                I'm the one and only daughter in my happy family. I promised to myself, that one day, I'll make them proud. Success in my life, then, I'll take care of them. Some people were envy with my perfect family. "I wish I have family like yours." My friend would say to me.

                But, to remind ALL of you out there, there is no such thing as Happy Ending. I repeat-- NO. It all just happens in dramas. Don't get fool over it. "And they live happily ever after.." Bla bla bla.. Cut the crap out. They're just wasting their film.

                Now, here I stand, looking at my miserable dad after mum ran with some other Korean man. Geez.

                A year ago, "I'm sorry dear. My mum said, "But--what about dad? What about--me?" All my begging doesn’t seem to work. Mum just left, without any explanation. Leaving a 17 year old teenager behind alone with her dad.

                Dad changed at the precise moment mum left. He went in the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and drank bottles of beer. He acted like this, until now. It's like- a routine for him.

                His rich complexion had turned into pasty, pale, and his once masculine body turns into fats and alcohol. All that popping out was his fat, round tummy.

                Dad's way of scratching out a living was working at the construction site. I could include that he does work hard, but occasionally, he might ended up buying beers and get drunk.