Whatever.

The earliest memory I have of my childhood is my father drunk, and beating the shit out of my mother. I was maybe 5 years old and tried to move in the middle of it and my dad smacked me himself, meanwhile my mother was at the phone calling the police. The police show up in their filthy pig uniforms and cuff my pig father who knows, maybe they all went down to the trough for a bite to eat after. As they were cuffing my father, I ran upstairs to my room. My only solace was the feeling of my favorite batman action figure in his orange costume in the grip of my hand. Meanwhile, the pigs charged into my room as well attempting to console me. Fuck you. I will only deal with you in a matter of 12 years when you decide to arrest and incarcerate me for the vandalism I commit in frustration of that other pig you arrested.

Weeks later, dad picks me up from my house. I was wondering what happened. He’s drunk again. We’re in his 1994 white ford pick up truck. He shows me what mom did to him. (Points to a jail we pass).. Slugs down more beer. We go to his office. He tells me mom doesn’t love me. He hits me cause I love mom. This is the first of 600 some odd sundays of abuse both mentally and physically.

Your grades aren’t good enough.
You’re fat.
Your mother hates you. She did this to you.
You were an accident.
I wish you were never born.

It all continues for years. I came to the conclusion that my father does not love me, he just causes affliction in others in order to fulfill his addiction to belittling others.. A real fucking power junkie. No different from the guy in the alley shooting dope.

I still talk to this man today. He still talks to me the same way. It will never end. I wake up every single fucking day wishing I was never born. I wake up every day with a new suicide fantasy. The only thing that keeps me from doing it is the “selfish” notion of it. But in reality, it’s completely selfless. Who the hell wants to put up with a mess of a person.