1964

john loved you, he did. but you were nearly ten now— you needed to stop acting so childish, in his opinion.

but you didn’t understand. you used to be daddy’s little girl; just you and him against the world. and now he was telling you to stop playing with your toys and not saying goodnight when you went to bed. you were confused. all you wanted was his love. the love you got so much as a child, when he was a young teenager and just barely scraping by.

one day, you were walking with john to the recording studio— you usually stayed when the beatles made music. john was tired, and he hadn’t spoken anything more than a few words on the little journey. but when you held his hand, he pulled his own away quite coldly, looking down at you as he continued to walk. “yer too old for that now, love.” he muttered, his eyes going back to the pavement as the two of you got closer to the studio.

you were confused. your daddy used to hold your hand all the time, but now he was telling you you couldn’t. and you didn’t know what to do anymore. where was the dad that you once had?

but it was much more than john wanting you to mature. it was complicated; everything is always complicated with john.