| Rents suck. Us kids talk about it all the time. It's natural to hate your parents; every kid will turn on their parents eventually. It's inevitable. So, obviously, I'm not the first to hate my parents. Or write a rant about it. Not parents, persay; my mom naturally gets on my nerves from time to time, but I love her so. She can't compare to my step father. My hatred for him goes deep, more deeply than one can imagine. I don't know how long I've known that I hate him; it's been there for as long as I can remember, a hatred, mixed with fear and revulsion. I hate him more than anyone else I've ever met, and I know a handful of people I would put under 'hate'. He pisses me off more than words can say. But I'll try nonetheless. He has made me cry more times than I can possibly count, more than a lifetimes' share. I can remember a time when I cried at least once a week. It was impressive when I went through a whole week without breaking down once. And this stage isn't all that far in the past. I can barely stand still living in my house. I can't wait to move out. Only, it's not my house. It has never been my house. It's where I live, granted, but it isn't mine in the slightest. Maybe my room is; at least, partially mine. He seems to think that he has control over even my room. As well as me. I swear, he views me as the maid. And so I had better wait on him. Bullshite. I refuse to be his property. What I don't understand is how he's rased 3 kids of his own. Mom says he's that way because he doesn't know how to relate to teenagers. Kids, fine, adults, fine, but the years in between are lacking in relateabliliy. And yet.. he still can't relate to my brothers, and they're 23 and 22. So whatever. I guess it makes sense. But why does he insist on making my life a living hell whenever he wants to? He knows how much I hate what he does, the anger, the tears, the pain. And yet he continues. So he must not like me much. I'm glad we aren't related. It makes dealing with this so much easier. But maybe that's also part of the problem. The fact that we aren't related. I hate that he calls me fat, useless, lazy, a burden. How spirit lifting is that? And he shoots down my dreams, telling me to do something more substantial instead of following my heart. I don't talk about my dreams anymore. If things aren't going as planned, I'm to blame. If things go missing, I stole them. Or a friend did. Yeah, like Steff would steal a corkscrew... He never leaves the house; there's no refuge here. That's what's so appealing about school and work. It's escape. He sets rules as he wants, like my computer cerfew; it's at 11. But I can stay up until whenever I want. Ok, maybe he just assumes I go to bed at 11. Whatever. I go to bed whenever I want to. No cerfew will stop that. I'm sorry if it just looks like I'm rebelling rules, but it's the principal. I hate having someone come along and decide to control my life. I may be shy, indecisive, and kind, but I won't just give up my life because someone decides they want to run it for me. That ain't me. |
| Cruel Intentions |
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