Anger Is a Gift
Fuck you, Patricia Anderson Faires. Fuck you, and your "This can all be yours someday." while my back was breaking and I was drenched in sweat on a hot July day rather than hanging out with my teenage friends from school (who were all whores or gay or evil.)
Whatever happened to that rockery?
I can tell you what has happened. I have been back. I am sure you've no fucking idea. I guaranfuckingtee you've not been back since, and could really give a shit.
I'm at a point in my life where I think I can maybe remotely grasp what cause my father to marry you.
It's not an excuse.
Today my kids and I were talking about how when I was their age, I leaped from tree to tree in woods that was my own, without a care, without video games or enhancements. I was all incarnations of Harrison Ford. The lamest thing I did when I was their age was to play with action figures: Star Wars, GI Joe. At worst, this was still creative play from my own mind instead of a predefined series of events from a team of game engineers.
Cam said that sounded like an amazing childhood.
He is right. But you fucking stripped that from me.
I'm not your dad, who did things to you that should've been prevented. I'm not your mom, who turned a blind eye. Why do you make every man pay for that? Oh, yes, because in some way every male must pay for the things that one male you trusted did to you.
You know what would happen if I in turn did that to my own kids? They would never trust a fucking thing that ever crossed my lips, that's what.
And the rockery is gone, you fucking cunt.
The people you sold the property to ripped it out like some organ that I don't really need but of which I feel the absence, and which pains me on rainy days.
You evil fucking bitch.
And yes, my two remaining readers, I've been drinking. At not even ten am on the 4th of July. I hope yours is going better than mine. And when I am drinking, connections are suddenly made, and I throw off the bullshit lies that I have even told myself, and I start facing my life for exactly what it is: damaged, misaligned, misguided, and misinformed. Forgive me, but I no longer hold back on the things that piss me off. This destroys me, from the inside.
Happy 4th, those that still visit this, my special place on the world wide web where I can allow myself to be completely myself. I'll sober up when the cleaning is done, and make it a special day for my boys, because really and truly, that is the only thing that keeps me going.
Darth Sardonic
Whatever happened to that rockery?
I can tell you what has happened. I have been back. I am sure you've no fucking idea. I guaranfuckingtee you've not been back since, and could really give a shit.
I'm at a point in my life where I think I can maybe remotely grasp what cause my father to marry you.
It's not an excuse.
Today my kids and I were talking about how when I was their age, I leaped from tree to tree in woods that was my own, without a care, without video games or enhancements. I was all incarnations of Harrison Ford. The lamest thing I did when I was their age was to play with action figures: Star Wars, GI Joe. At worst, this was still creative play from my own mind instead of a predefined series of events from a team of game engineers.
Cam said that sounded like an amazing childhood.
He is right. But you fucking stripped that from me.
I'm not your dad, who did things to you that should've been prevented. I'm not your mom, who turned a blind eye. Why do you make every man pay for that? Oh, yes, because in some way every male must pay for the things that one male you trusted did to you.
You know what would happen if I in turn did that to my own kids? They would never trust a fucking thing that ever crossed my lips, that's what.
And the rockery is gone, you fucking cunt.
The people you sold the property to ripped it out like some organ that I don't really need but of which I feel the absence, and which pains me on rainy days.
You evil fucking bitch.
And yes, my two remaining readers, I've been drinking. At not even ten am on the 4th of July. I hope yours is going better than mine. And when I am drinking, connections are suddenly made, and I throw off the bullshit lies that I have even told myself, and I start facing my life for exactly what it is: damaged, misaligned, misguided, and misinformed. Forgive me, but I no longer hold back on the things that piss me off. This destroys me, from the inside.
Happy 4th, those that still visit this, my special place on the world wide web where I can allow myself to be completely myself. I'll sober up when the cleaning is done, and make it a special day for my boys, because really and truly, that is the only thing that keeps me going.
Darth Sardonic
posted by darth sardonic at 7:00 AM
2 Comments:
Dave, please hang in there.I am going through a rough patch with my mom being sick on another continent but I'm here and you are not alone. I will check on you.Feel free to be yourself.Don't give up.Your kids need you.Take care. Sandrine
Ty, Sandrine. And I do take care of my kids. And love them. And, despite the self-loathing boils over into this blog quite often, I take care of myself. I think I am too self-centered to actually not. Again, ty.
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