I am not the daughter that you deserve.
You blame my failures on luck; unlucky, not getting into Cambridge, unlucky, not getting a first.
When instead it is me. Just me, who fails, despite the best upbringing; you loved me, but not too much, and helped me, and sent me to the best school.
But no.
It makes me wonder
How much worse I'd be with only a middling upbringing.
Because I'm pretty mediocre now.

Lump in throat but I can't cry.
Face is empty cheeks are dry.