You don’t like it when I say fuck.
I’m angry, I’m frustrated, and I am hurt. When I am all of these things I say fuck alot. It’s what I do.
I woke up this morning with a fucking headache. I slept all of 1 hour last night. My heart didn’t start beating it’s normal pace till an hour after I got into bed. Violent images flash through my head. I want to rip your head right off. I can’t remember ever being so mad.
I cried like a baby at 1:30 in the morning, after standing outside in the cold for half an hour. I called his phone at least twenty times. He hung up on me each time he answered, after cursing me out a bit in between. He yells for an apology, I ignore each request. I don’t even bother to ask for one from him. Why am I even calling him? Why am I out here in the cold? What the fuck happened to us?
He speaks with the youngest about how much of a bitch I am. They share the same hate. I left the house after trying to tell them I love them. He wasn’t home to interfere, yet his words were running through their heads the whole time. I know they don’t hear me, but I pray that they do on some level. I don’t want to be the bad guy, I am just scared for them. I want to protect him, but I can’t. I need help.
Words of disrespect pierce like daggers from someone you’ve always thought had respect for you. A week ago I bore my heart to you. Told you I don’t want to see you make the wrong choices. Told you how much I want you to be a great man. Told you I was scared. I thought I connected. I thought I was heard. I was wrong.
You’ve turned against me and now you’ve turned him against me. I am alone. I feel like I’ve been robbed.
You hate me. He hates me. You are my younger brothers. I love you.