I remember one night when I was in my bedroom pretending to sleep, my dad got up and left me in the middle of the night. He came back hours later, drunk off his face and had brought someone back with him. I listened to the drunk conversation he had with this woman. The conversation was about how important your children are and how they are your life. I remember thinking that night as I listen to his drunken ramblings 'if his child is supposed to be his life then why does he cause me so much pain?' I hated him for saying things like that, to me it was obvious that he didn't give a fuck about me.
