Fuck. My mom was the abuser, my dad the one who abided it when she was around but in private acknowledged she was a monster. All my friends had divorced parents, I so wished they’d split so I could live with him, flawed as he was. He at least seemed to have some form of humanity. Religion, social standing, money, and the outward appearance of American Dream were the reason they never split. I wonder sometimes how their golden years are working out. None of their kids talk to them, none of us have them grandkids, and only one of us remains marginally religious (she’s figuring her escape out). Your dream failed, fuckers.
Probably. I’ve been known to vomit my childhood issues here, and anonymous forums have made me realize my experience was not unique. That some people grew up with good, kind, loving parents makes me happy. At the same time, I can’t fathom that. And I know my distrust and resentment of relationships is a perpetual flaw I’ve never fully rectified.
Fuck. My mom was the abuser, my dad the one who abided it when she was around but in private acknowledged she was a monster. All my friends had divorced parents, I so wished they’d split so I could live with him, flawed as he was. He at least seemed to have some form of humanity. Religion, social standing, money, and the outward appearance of American Dream were the reason they never split. I wonder sometimes how their golden years are working out. None of their kids talk to them, none of us have them grandkids, and only one of us remains marginally religious (she’s figuring her escape out). Your dream failed, fuckers.
I feel like I read this before.
Uh-oh!
Probably. I’ve been known to vomit my childhood issues here, and anonymous forums have made me realize my experience was not unique. That some people grew up with good, kind, loving parents makes me happy. At the same time, I can’t fathom that. And I know my distrust and resentment of relationships is a perpetual flaw I’ve never fully rectified.
😥
🥰 thanks bruh.