A Story

12/12/15

I'm luckier than most
Yet the range inside me continues to grow.
You think it doesn't affect me,
That I'm unable to comprehend those harsh words that you shout at me,
But it amazes me how you don't even know.

I walk, talk, circles around your games.
I forgive you when you've caused unbearable pain.
I tell you I love you, yet don't feel a thing.
I feel sickened being associated with your last name.

I don't understand why everything has to be
such an argument with you,
Why can't we just discuss something without all the fighting?
I am astonished at how you feel the only way to get your point across is to scream and yell,
and yet,
I'm still luckier than most.

It all feels so backwards the way we live with each other,
With you constantly pushing me down and putting yourself on a pedestal.
Father and daughter, ones that should have an inseparable bond connected through love,
However ours is hardly hanging on.

I can't believe that you feel as if your actions are okay?
Or that, "my daddy treated me way worse when I was your age" makes the situation any less damaging to me.
And still, I am luckier than most.

But here's the deal, when I can afford to support myself I'm gone.
I'll call, but just to make sure my brother is okay and hasn't started hurting himself just so your words hurt slightly less.
I'll call to make sure my mother hasn't started abusing again because you caused her to feel as if that was the only way to cause the pain from you to go away.
The deal is, I don't want to see you,
Hear you,
Talk to you,
Or be in the same room as you.
I want you as far out of my life as I can get.
But you want to know what is more depressing than that?
The fact that I am still luckier than most.