My Father
I no longer hate my father; I got over that a while ago. Now I just dislike him with a vague fervor, when I’m not completely indifferent towards him. Needless to say, today was one of those days. I’m no longer shocked, but still hurt, by the things he says sometimes. And the utter lack of trust and respect that he has for me. But, since I have little trust and respect left for him, it doesn’t matter much what esteem he holds me in. It used to… it used to burn me up inside everytime he allowed his utter contempt for me to show. Those fires have burned their way through me, and there’s no fuel left for them; now there’s just ashes, a dull aching. And I’m here in a voluntary emotional void, waiting for my time to leave.
Enough bitterness for one day…
Possibly relevant posts:
- The etymology of the word fag (2/21/2007)
- NYC Rebuild (1/22/2002)
- One of my favorite books (1/28/2008)