All I've ever wanted is for you to say you were proud of me. But I wasn't good enough.

I don't think anyone will ever be good enough. I think that because I don't think you can love. It's not in you anymore. It's not in you because Tai Lung broke all that was good in you. It's not in me, because you raised me. You took my innocent, full hearted love and ignored it like it was trash. What a fool. Why, I was as dumb as Po in those days. I gave you my everything, I gave you my love, dedication, attention. You were my god. My idol. And you never loved me. You can't love anyone at all. You let Tai Lung take out your heart and compassion, yet I still tried to be good enough for you. I am such a fool. You hate me, don't you?

That's why I don't care about anything. Anyone. I am not the chosen one because my heart is hard. It has to be. When you are told from a young age that you are worthless and your form flawed, you cannot allow yourself to be open. I am a closed lotus, the wilting flower who knows better than to open. I don't care about Tai Lung, or Po, or anyone around me. If I did, they would simply tell me I am not good enough, just like you did. They would correct me and leave me an imperfection to the world, just like you did. But if I am perfect, if I am pristinely cool and criticize them first, they will never get close to me. They will never sneak past my defenses and make me care about them.

It's still too late. I cannot go back in time and stop myself from caring for you.

You were my everything. My master, teacher, cook, caretaker, older brother, father figure. From my first memories, you were my everything. You still are. Having no family, I took you into my heart as my family in spirit. I am your humble servant. I would kill myself if you gave the command. I would run a thousand laps around China if you said the word. I am dedicated to you beyond rational thought. You are my guiding light. My image of perfection, of total control. The problem is, I can see you not care. In a day, Po has become all you can talk about. I have stood by your side since I could first crawl, and you will abandon me in a heartbeat for an idiot. My attention to your words, to who you are, has not wavered in years. And you don't know I exist. The most important person in my life does not know I exist.

I hope Tai Lung kills me.

I hope he puts me out of this vicious little cycle. Every day, I've tried so hard. I've fought every foe, trained on every course, worked myself until I cannot move for exhuastion. I have never questioned your choices until now. I obey without question, serve with loyalty that panda could never imagine. I am yours, so totally yours it has ripped me apart. I've done my best, honestly, master, I have. I can give no more to this, to you. Loving you has killed me. You have raised me to despise who I am, and I finally will admit defeat. I've lost my worth. I know you will not mind anymore if I die. You don't care, you likely never did. Fine. I will go out there and make you care about me, or I will die trying.

Does it matter if I die? It's so cold inside, beneath it all. Not even Po's hot noodles could make me feel anything. Kindness is lost on my weary soul. I tore out each emotion from myself. I bottled them up so that I could be your perfect warrior. The well has now run over. I have hit a point where I cannot take it anymore. You are colder than I am. This won't effect you. But I, personally, cannot stand one more day of this hell. I am not important. I'm merely a background warrior, to you and to China. No one thinks of us as individuals, just as a set. If I die, it will only mean part of the set has faded away. Like a ghost to the wind, I will vanish and in seconds, no one will know my name. I am the invisible tiger of China.

I hate you. I hate how you ignore me. I hate how you treat me. I hate my loyalty to you. You raised me, and if I were a bad person I might turn Tai Lung on you. I cannot, however. I am not a bad person. In truth, I'm not even as angry as the world might think me, or as prideful. There are layers of that, true. Beneath it all, though, I'm merely broken. My heart is broken, my mind is a raging tornado of conflicting interests - made no better by Po's existance - and I've been pushed beyond the breaking point. You don't think I'm good enough? I hate you too, Shifu. I hate you the same way you hate me, with lots of held back words and feelings we're both too stupid to acknowledge.

You made me a perfectionist. Everything is not good enough. I am not strong enough, fast enough, vicious enough. I can try and try, practice until my paws splinter on wood training blocks and gashes coat my body from the training course's blades. I still will be a failure. All you will let me be is a failure, for even when you don't speak, you shake your head in disdain. I am a letdown to you, and thus I am a letdown to myself. The cycle will always go on, until my death I fear. I know inside that if you didn't say anything, I would still hate my flaws with unbridled anger silently fuming beneath my calm exterior. It is who you made me to be, who you forced me to be. Unfortunately, you cannot force me to be perfect.

It hurts. I want to hit you, claw at you or at least scream at you. I want to cry, embrace you and beg of you, 'what more do you want?'. I want to run away until I cannot be recognized, and leave you a ghost in the past. I want to throw away this life and find my birth parents, if they could even be found. My heart is weak. I cannot do any of these, no matter what I feel. I've lost that ability Po holds so dear, the ability to listen to my feelings and follow them. Sometimes, I wish I were as much of an idiot as he is. He would not stand for having his heart ripped out like this. My feelings, however, you locked away long ago. I cannot feel properly anymore. I know this is wrong, yet I can't make it right with you anymore. I know I can't. It would hurt too much to even try.

And so I run to a battle I truly know I cannot win. Throwing my life away is a cowardly move, I know, and you would never approve. What else am I supposed to do, Shifu? I tried loving you, hating you, and feeling nothing for you. I've tried talking to you, the words catching in my mouth and silencing me because I'm scared. To open myself up to you again would only break me further. In truth, I don't want to die, I've simply run out of options.

Nothing matters. It doesn't matter what happens. I will still hate myself. I will still hate and love you. You will still hate and ignore me. Like Yin and Yang, we are so close, parts of each other, yet seperation will kill us. It may kill me. It might also bring me glory, however, glory I've wanted since I was old enough to understand you were disappointed in me. Not fame, not fortune, not the honors of the world. Those things do not matter anymore than self preservation does at this point. When I speak of glory, I speak of my possible death in battle or my inconceivable triumph. Nothing else matters if I can acheive one of these two honorable options.

This is all I have left in me. What little is left my heart and will, I shall give to this. If it ruins me, good. If it does not, good. I am broken, beyond the point where things will just somehow be okay. Yet I cannot break my bond with you, and so I charge into battle. For you, not for me or for China. Just for you, my father. My master. Is this what you wanted of me? Sudden brutality tinged with total control? I hope that's what you wanted of me, for it's certainly what I've become. It is all I am. If I fall, and all is lost, then you will get to attend a parade in my honor, albeit a funeral parade. If I win, and China falls at my feet in honor, even someone so blind as you will not be able to ignore me.

Either way, I hope you will finally say you're proud of me, because honestly, Shifu?

I am prepared to die to hear it from you.

It will mean I am good enough.