I’ve never hated anyone, except my father.
John Young,
Rot in hell you filthy bastard.
I’m 19 years old, not going to school, and with out a job or car, but who’s fault is that? Not fucking mine, you told me I’d have a place to live when I moved here, you told me your doors were open, and guess what?
You threw me out, with nothing, because of some bitch who has now screwed you over. I had to couch surf for 8 months. I had no where to go, because of you, you set MY life back.
I’m sorry I asked my brother for a ride.
I’m getting my shit straight, I’m signing up for school, I have an DMV appointment, and the job? Well, I try my hardest, and I’m still trying. I’ve made progress in these last two weeks I’ve actually have had a home.
I fucking clean up your fucking drunk ass messes when you come home. I do the dishes because you leave them there for so long they fucking stick up the house. I clean up the messes you and your friends make. I drive you home from the bar when you’re to fucked up to drive. I repeat myself OVER AND OVER AND OVER again even though I hate to, just because you can’t remember what the fuck I said. You’re 45 years old living off of unemployment, getting drunk for 11 am to 2 am, having your kids clean up your life for you. You fucking piece of shit father, I hate you.
The only good thing you’ve ever done for me is made yourself look so bad in front of the judge he gave my amazing mother custody of Clay and I when we were little. I’m sorry I chose to move out of my mom’s house when I was 18, thinking I’d have it better here than in Georgia, but I have now realized… Hell would be a better place to live, as long as you weren’t there.
Forever, Brette
