You were never perfect. As a person, a husband, and a father. You use your words to abuse and your infidelities just to -- well, just because you can. But I never held that against you. As I grew, I realised, people make mistakes. They slipped. And time is there to help one fix them. I understand. You've hurt me, but I never told you that. Because, a part of me knows you did not do it on purpose. Although, another part of me is still naming you a cheating bastard, but that part -- I've managed to shut silent. But if only you knew how, until this very moment, I still can't get that image out of my head. You and that whore. In our house. I still remember the voices of random cunts, calling to our house, with no essence of guilt whatsoever. You know, Dad, even if I did forgive you, those memories won't be able to be erased. You fuckin' dick!But I do love you, Dad.
Mom.
Two questions ; why didn't you just kill me when you gave birth to me and why didn't you just walk away instead of staying, saying it's for me when you're actually dying inside and ended up blaming me for shit that didn't even do? Because, you see, I would be better off if I didn't have to deal with all of this. The constant judging, overly high expectations and the permanent invisibility cloth you're putting on me for all these years. If you know your first child would be so difficult, for the second one to compete with, why didn't you just fucking kill me when you heard me crying for the first time? Spare me living the life of a total waste.
You stayed, letting him abuse you with his words, treating you like you're nothing but a piece of shit just because you think it would be best for me? Guess what, I'd rather grow up without a father instead of having one that acts like a total loser. And all those women, Mom. Is that what you want to teach me? That it's okay to stay married to a man that fucks everything with a vagina as long as there's still roof on our heads? You want me to be that kind of woman?
I have never asked for perfection from you two. But apparently, that's the one thing you kept wanting from me. And all my life, I kept failing. No matter what I do, making you proud or even just to please you, seems like that one subject in school that will always fucks me up. So much for fairness, right?
You hurt me with your words, I'm hurting you by covering my ears. But one can only cover one's ear for so long. And when those words are finally heard again, I'm once again, destroyed. But - hey, who cares about that, right? As long as I nod along and put on pretty smiles as a justification of your parenting skills.
But, there will be a time where I'm not going to miss that vein on purpose. And when that day comes, I'd like to see how many tears you'll be shedding. And if your - so called - pain from constant disappointment caused by me, will be anything close to the life I've been living. The one that isn't mine. The one that I had just because I thought that would make you think I'm good enough. But, obviously, I wasn't. Yeah, I'd like to see the tears you two will be sharing then. That should be interesting. Because God forbids that parents might disappoint the children. Because one risked her life to gave the child life and the other one consistently puts food on the table. Who gives a fuck about anything else. Right?
One day, I'll give you the ultimate grief, I'd say, "FUCK YOU!" to your tears and wailing.
One day.
Don't worry.
I will.
I'll describe the way I feel
Weeping wounds that never heal
Can the savior be for real Or are you just my seventh seal? -- Placebo's Special K.
[ Something an old friend wrote a while back. Either you can relate or you can use as an excuse to judge someone you don't fucking know. ]
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