When I was younger, my dad used to come home drunk and angry. Telling my sisters and I how much he didn’t want to come home, that we made him drink. My mom would always defend him saying he wasn’t always like that. He’d berate my mom in front of us, telling her the sexy younger girl at the bar wanted to fuck. That my mom wasn’t as sexy as his girlfriend. The yelling would go on for hours and the only way to get him to shut up was by screwing him. There are mental issues and disorders from both sides and I just ended up getting the short end of the stick. 

I’ve only been in online relationships but they all end the same. I won’t lie, tit’s my fault. My inability to control my mental issues lead me into toxic relationships that remind me of what my parents have. I love my mom but I don’t want to end up like her. What if she was telling the truth, he changed throughout the years. I don’t know what I did to cause this but I wish I hadn’t been born. My most vivid memory I have of my dad is when we came home to a long extension cord tied like a noose hanging from the second floor. He didn’t hang himself, he was laying on the couch drunk. He said we made him contemplate killing himself. We were 15,11, and 10. I’m sorry for being born.

I always pictured myself having a family of my own but I’m scared somewhere along the line I’ll become just like my dad. I want to love but I want to not love more. I don’t think I’m strong enough to not hurt someone’s childhood. Sorry for the word barf. I just needed an outlet.