Trying to stay calm...trying to focus...very hard to do, my little droogies, when your neck is stiff from focusing dead-on the computer screen....trying not to draw attention to that bum of a father, trying not to get in an argument with someone still abusing addictions, and not having any intention of changing them anytime soon. Still coming up with hairbrained schemes, and reinforcing the fear that he doesn't want to work or fix this...and still trying to act an innocent.
I may forgive. I do not forget.
I haven't forgotten the hell you raised when I was younger in drunken stupors. The large amount of times you drove under the influence. The fights you got into between family, and the stubbornness you had. I haven't forgotten the times when you would beat me a little too hard, a leather strap across the majority of my body. I haven't forgotten when you tried to leave my sister on the side of the road, and I had to get out personally out of a refusal to leave her standing alone. I haven't forgotten those times. I haven't forgotten when you pawned things off to pay for food, and lost some of my gaming consoles and game collections because of it. I haven't forgotten that you were given 20 grand to buy an RV, and subsequently lost that. You lost the Van. Being homeless for some time is a damn shame, but...how? Is there a conceivable way for me to feel pity?
He never went to my sister's graduation, and subsequently never showed up to mine (was never around to contact for High School or Associates twice over). Never had the guts to try to make a relationship with my brother. Just crawled into a bottle over and over and over and over and over and over. Twenty-five years. And the only thing that's remained constant is the alcohol abuse.
What does a man, a son do....when faced with the stark reality that any positive memories of childhood, any fun we might've had when younger....is overridden by this mess of a father? How can I put on a fake smile and nod at this? I'm literally hiding out in Long Beach more often than not, both to do homework, and to put off enough time so that he just stays in the porch room, quiet and away from my thoughts, allowing me a reprieve.