what a joke. dad pulls the "fight with your brother again and s**t flies" card once more. a true and otter joke. mom says it every day. i want to laugh. laugh at her. it's so funny the way she pretends we're the happy family. i want to laugh and just say it. tell her we'll never be her happy family. tell her how growing up how my brother has torn us apart. how i don't know my own father bc of him. how he's only purpose in life is to push me to not be him. how the sotries she told us of how hard dad's life was growing up most likely started all of this. he belives his ife has to be hard bc dad's was. news flash! this in the 21st cetury! how growing up i hated him. how what little time our father had between work and sleep was taken intiry by him bc dad didn't want the same bad relationship between him and my brother as he had with his dad. guess what... and what time was left over for me... HA! so lost was my dad. not knowing what to do with me. i wasn't a boy. i didn't like cars. dad had grown up with 3 brothers and not a sister in sight. what a joke. i'd watch shows on bikes and pertend to love it. shows on history, my most hated subject, and smile. all to pretend we had something to. what a joke. mom pretended we where fine. fine as my brother screamed and yelled at her like she was his toy, a slave he owned. yelled till he got his way, got what he wanted. money, trucks, gas, stareos, cds, junk... and she always gave in to him. she never once saw me hiding in corners, under tables, behind door, chairs, and house plants. never saw me watching and lisoning, a push doll in my lap, the only other witness. never telling dad the intire truth when he asked. what a joke this house is. what a loser he is. a discrase to what would be a happy family with out him. i was once the black sheep bc of my open mind. in the end it was him. a black inky mess of white paper. a drop out b4 high school. a drunk b4 16. a smoker b4 13. a thiff with in the home. taking what he wanted without thinking of how it hurt us. a mindless, pothitic, beast. if i could cut him from the white paper. cut that black mess away i would. if a blood transfution could cut my ty with him i would. and now father tells me to be nice to this rabid creatur that punchs holes in the wall when it is told no? to hand feed this monster that takes without giving back. i think not. i've cut this thing with my words before. but i can do more. i've intrapped it and had it acussed of my own work. i can do better. with new threts to that which i value most i must become more then i am. smarter, stronger, sharper... new ways to cut this cur down most be found. it will take time. it will take weeks of study, both in the weapons at my disposal, and of my prey. like the sign i was born under i will act the tiger i am to bring this dragon down. now i memitate. the answer to war is always found in calm. this is my war. my batte fied. he drew first bood. but the goddess as my witness i with drew the last!
Bastet13 Community Member 
|
|
