Tales of Fake

You scream at me, you punch the table, you yell at mom, you criticize every thing...and you still expect a good night kiss? I'm sick of this fucking roller coaster fulled by whiskey and wine. You think my sighs are caused by sadness?Guess what, they are caused by anger...underneath the table cloth I'm pinching the inside of my hands just to hold back. So many times you asked me why I never told you I cut myself, I'll answer each time that it was because you never gave me a reason to trust. I'm sick of this. I sit on the bathroom floor and cry, and I wonder what the hell happened to what you said last week. Just last Friday you were telling me you supported me no matter what, now you're screaming at me because you disagree with what I've done. You're a hypocrite. You keep telling me things and then you change you're mind and never realize that you're pushing me out the door. I wanna talk back, scream at you but I don't have enough strength...so all I do is sit back and wait for the day it all bursts in your face. You say I've lost a year? I've won a year. The knowledge that I got can't be taken away. And you wonder why the heck did I start there in the first place? It wasn't only because of mom's words...it was also because when I asked for your advice, you screamed at me -apparently you know no other way of getting your point across- that THAT University was my only choice. Now you say I've lost a year and you blame it on me and on my poor judgment and on my hysterical behavior...why don't you stop screaming and go back to your fucking words and remember you pushed me there?
I believe it was in my last entry that I expressed how thankful I am about my great support system...well, now I know I can leave you out. Keep doing that, dad...keep throwing away every chance you can get of being a part of my life. You know when you're fifteen and you argue with your parents and you say "just a couple more years and I'll be gone"? Well, you should know that we're about to reach that point....and I'm not 15 anymore, I can leave. It's not my fault that you ruined your life...why do you have to go and ruin mine?

My head aches, so I'm about to go...I only wanted to put that in writing. Although I strongly doubt that I'll be getting any sleep any time soon.
Fuck you, dad.