First, I would like to please ask everyone to refrain form using cyberhugs. I loathe them.
This has been a long time coming.
I’ve contemplated this thread many, many times before.
Now it is time.
Mother, you are not right, humorous, smart nor loving, all of which you think you are.
Mother, you had to be a whore, and so my father left. Not because he was fed up with you, but the other way around. He’s gone to Vegas, 5 hours away. I get to see him no more than twice a month, if I’m lucky. Thanks, really. Dad was the only one who would talk to me, hold me, take interest in my life and do things for me without complaint.
We say no more than 10 words to each other a day because, frankly, I think you are the most horrid bitch on this planet. When I am in need of comfort, I rather go alone than have you embrace me. What is going on in my life is a secret to you. You don’t ask, I don’t tell. It’s better that way, I think, I’m pretty sure you would dismiss everything I do as “pipe dreams” and “wastes of time.” I ask very little from you because I hate having to rely on you, though that isn’t too hard when you are too caught up in your own “very important” life. When I do ask for something, you never let me hear the end of it. If I need to go someplace, you are always tired and if you do take me all you can talk about on the way there is how I’m a “son of a bitch” (Think about that one, Mom) and how you should be resting. Dad used to work 8 hours a day, pick me and my 4 brothers up from school, cook for us and talk to all of us and help us out. All this without one complaint. If I need money, you insist that you have none and then go about buying endless crap (more on this later).
When things between me and my brother were so bad that my oldest brother offered to have me move in with him, you laughed. You shrugged it off and called me a wimp whenever I would come to you after my brother had pummeled me. A few times I tried to explain it to you, how being the youngest of 4 boys, I had become very flinchy as a result (not that you beating all of us everytime we did any little thing wrong helped) and lived my life in fear. Again, you just sat there, patted my head and laughed.
Luckily, now me and my brother are good friends, no longer divided with hate for each other but united with hate for you.
Yes, I am skinny. Thanks for telling me everyday. This doesn’t bother me now, but it sure as hell did wonders for me when I was the skinniest 3rd grader in school. I have a high metabolism, Mom. Look at your family, you fucking twit, they’re all sticks. Just because you are overweight, doesn’t mean I should be as well. Just because I don’t make it a point to sit down and chew my food 36 times in front of your face for every meal of my day, does not mean I do not eat.
And why don’t I ever eat a meal with you? Because I hate you, you piece of flaming dog shit. 95% of my time at home is in my room because I do not want to put up with your shit, I do not want to have you screaming at me every 5 minutes for no reason. When the weekends come, I am out of the house and with my friends because they are my only relief from you.
Back to my father for a second, it was all fine and great until you decided to fuck it up. My dad gave you everything, busting his hump 8 hours a day, 6-7 days a week. You repay him by cheating on him, when you have 4 kids, all living with you, all knowing, all seeing. And to add insult to injury, you WASTE all his money. You waited until he got laid off from his job of 18 years to begin construction on your house in your home country simply because you want somewhere for **you to retire from your “mind numbing” career of cleaning houses. My dad had well over 200k saved up for his retirement and you decide it’s your place to waste over half of it in a year. The other half my father used to feed, clothe and shelter us for that one year when he could not find a stable job. AND to add disgrace to insult to injury you keep him on a short lease by using me. You decided it was a great idea to give me your maiden name by placing one of my uncles as the father, not thinking about it. Now, legally, I am not my father’s son. HOW DARE YOU threaten my father to take off with me if he didn’t comply with what you wanted.
Your stupid motherfucking house! The house who you foolishly think you can fill with sofa’s and knick-knacks and paintings and almost every piece of furniture imaginable. This wouldn’t be so bad if you didn’t insist on buying all this crap here in the U.S. and then ship it to your house for 25x what the crap is worth. Now you just stockpile all this shit. Our house overflows with his crap and some of it even goes back to the salvation army from where you got it all. To fund your house, you have section our house in half. You now rent the front part of the house and have added trailers in the backyard. All VERY illegal and all very embarrassing. You did this without even consulting any of your kids, asking if it would be okay with them. Thanks.
Your hygiene and manners are deplorable. Would it kill you to close the bathroom door while you use it? You live like a fucking pig most of the time and then you complain about how messy my room is. Would it kill you to close packets of food up so they won’t rot? And if you don’t, please don’t complain about it and then blame it on me because “who else would it be?”. Just because you work does not make you exempt from cleaning up after yourself like you tell me to do.
Why must you yell for everything? You know how very flinchy I am. Anything and everything you want me to do requires you yelling at me as if there is no tomorrow. You want some water? MERC! You want me to <insert chore here>? MERC! I am not your slave and I will never pick up after you like you wish I did.
I’ve run out of steam. Out of things to say.
May you die a long horrid death like the life you wish to impose on me.
