A friend told me this morning that my dad has "forgotten love."
Bullocks! I say he never KNEW love, therefore how could he forget?
That's way too easy an excuse. It gives him far too much credit. It also assumes he has an actual heart beating in that concave blackened rotting hole of a cavity he calls a chest.
He's just a sad, pitiful bastard. Another dry drunk who can't (won't) take responsibility for his actions, his drinking, his utter lack of HUMAN-NESS.
He has spewed the ever running diarrhea from his mouth at me & my kid for the last time. I am not going to get sucked into his misery or his mean-spirited nastiness anymore. The last words that I'll ever direct his way (other than the words "Goodbye" when I finally leave CA forever) were last night when I told him he was the most selfish, self-absorbed person I'd ever known. That's it dad. That's the last words you're gonna get from me. Ever.
You shall reep what you sow old man. And I will feel not one iota of sorry for you. No guilt, no shame, no nothing. I sir, am done with you, for good.
The end.
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