Anger

Sunday.

A day for preparation, organization, and hopefulness.

I like to “set myself up for success” because I know that by Tuesday, my energy will be drained for the rest of the week. I’ll be running on the fumes as I try to crawl to Friday.

I really enjoy my job, though sometimes it is really anxiety provoking (presentation to 30+ people) , it pushes me out of my comfort zone and helps me accomplish things I didn’t know I was capable of.

I’m going to skip the prelude and jump into the anger.

Is anyone else bullied by their father? Or feel hated?

My last therapist wanted me to improve the relationship, to take the steps to placate this ignorant and aggressive jerk.

I honestly couldn’t believe that this was the advice I was paying for.

Is it normal for a child to cry nearly every single day at the hands/words of their father? Is what I went through all bullshit? Did I imagine this to make myself a victim?

Can I for once say something about my feelings, or my life, with absolute certainty that what I’m saying is the truth? I am completely unable to discern fact from fiction inside my mind.

There are a few things that I do know about myself. Allow me to share!

Lazy, ungrateful fuck. Disgusting pig. Glutton. Disgusting. Stupid. Careless. “You just don’t care”. Sloppy. Loser. Asshole. Rude Motherfucker. Shitbag. Useless.

Pig

I am a disgusting pig. I eat and eat and eat until my fucking stomach hurts. I am a glutton. Only the doctors don’t call it that. They call it “overeating”. They call it an “eating disorder”. They call me a lot of disorders.

You know if it wasn’t ham & cheese sandwiches in my hand it would be a bottle of rum. That’s what the psych said.

Anti-

“Anti-“ short for ‘Anti-Social’. I would play on the computer, completely escaped, role-playing as a soldier, bureaucrat, and inspirational leader. I loved to play on the computer. I could chat with my friends, meet other kids from all over, and really express myself.

I had low self-esteem as a kid. I felt inadequate often. I cried sometimes. I don’t remember much from the early years, but I had some issues.

I found my place in online gaming. I had enjoyed Club Penguin to death and moved to something more complex, Roblox. My parents hated Roblox. It gave the computer viruses. I spent too much time on it.

I played from 2007-2016 on and off. I was frequently banned from playing Roblox but I always snuck back on to my community. I built a lot of self-confidence through Roblox. I organized groups and led roleplays. Without getting into too much detail, since it still exists and is nothing like it was when I played, I really loved playing on Roblox.

To him, I was anti-social for being on the computer. Anti-social because I had grown tired of being teased. Tired of being the butt of the joke. Tired of playing family. That game fucking sucks.

Loser

Honestly, I’m just really grateful Beck made this song.


As I write today, I am on the shit list. I smoked weed outside yesterday, 30 minutes before they all returned home, and the smell carried inside. Apparently it was just so bad. I couldn’t cover it up in time and was busted.

I didn’t get grounded because I’m 22 fucking years old, but I may be paying for the house to be “fumigated”.

Talk about fucking drama queens. Since the smell completely dissipated from the house before the night was even over, now it’s just going to be my room that needs to be fumigated.

When I talk about my life like this, it makes me want to fade away and never exist. It feels so stupid. I know there are kids in worse situations and that people don’t have the privileges I have, but acknowledging that can make me feel worse sometimes.

I will never please this fucking bastard.

No matter how hard I push. No matter how hard I try. No matter how.

Sometimes I just want to kill myself so that I don’t spread this disease to my own children or to someone I love.

I feel like a real sick person sometimes.

I just want to get high now. I’ve written myself into a pit. I’m sorry that I’m sharing this.

Tell you what, I’ll clean up my room and get organi-zized.

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