No. 2004958
You are a pathetic man, and you always have been. A self-pitying, weak man who contorts reality to maintain his fragile ego. The sort of man who beats a little girl and kills her pet cat, but still believes he is the one who deserves sympathy. You are the sort of man who has the audacity to tell that little girl, now a woman, that you expected your "intentions" to vindicate your monstrousness. You look at me and you expect, what, pity? I feel none. You have made my heart cold. You are shameless. The fact you still sit across from me and say the most awful things about me, and then challenge me to disagree with your "simple facts" is astonishing. I was so stunned I couldn't speak. Where do you get this audacity from? Do you really want to go there? Do you want to talk about "simple facts"? How about the fact you spend all day playing video games, never lifting a finger to help cook or clean? How about the fact you are such a useless parent, mom only trusts me to look after your youngest child instead of you? How about the fact that you haven't worked in over a decade, but still find it in you to criticize your wife's paycheck? Or the fact that you're so weak your stint in grad school ended with you dropping out, suicidal and demoralized? You really want to criticize me when you are the only thing standing between me and everything I want? You, in your glass house, throwing rocks. You are complacent because you know I cannot fight back. You won't let me drive, won't let me leave, won't let me live. Mom says you're just getting desperate because you're scared if I leave, I'll never come back. She's right, you know. I do hate you. And it is your fault. It's all your fault.