eatdixx's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- for fucks sake FUCKING HELL! DOES ANYONE ELSE WANNA HAVE A GO? FUCKING CUNTING PIECE OF SHIT ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I CAN'T TAKE IT!!!!!!!! this day just gets worse, and worse. i don't even wanna write about what happened. i don't know what to do with it. i don't know where to put it, in my head. i'm scared again, i don't want to see it again. i don't want to see him like that. i thought it was all over, that we could all forget about it. i can't tell my sister, she'll freak out, it'll bring her back there. i don't want to go back there. i don't want to. why does someone start drinking again? after so long? it's been 12 years. does he still have issues attached to it? does he get that sinister look on his face, like he used to? i don't ever want to see that face again. such a cruel person, that kicked our dogs and threw the cat off the balcony, it ran away and drowned in the sewer. punching my sister in the face when she was a smartarse, the crack of it connecting and her body thumping into the side of our bunk beds, with me hiding under my doona, scared of making a noise in case he came at me. i have no respect for that man, but he's changed, he's been a different man, a good man. respected amongst his religion, a minister of sorts. but i remember him walking past me in the hallway, after throwing up. taking casks of wine to the family restaurant, and cleaning up his vomit at 3 in the morning when i was a kid, with my brothers and sisters, hosing out the car. mum not saying anything. everyone quiet, but i'd look around and see their faces. ashamed of him. he drank everything away. lost his business. mum packed her bags a few times, and i found her sitting out on the footpath, waiting for a cab. i took her hand, and went back into the house with her. she cried alot. then he stopped, and everything got better, but he stayed angry. frustrated. i loved fighting with him, he made me scream at the top of my lungs, for all i was worth, and punch and kick and scream at him until i ran out the door, with him chasing after me in thongs, yelling out at him FUCK YOU! as i dashed off down the street in my nightie. over the years, he's lost his fire, the vitriol that was in his blood, it's gone. i'm hoping that he's happy, and maybe then there won't be any issues of failure or past shit attached to it, and he can have a quiet drink. i just don't want to deal with this right now. 9:54 p.m. - 2005-07-21 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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