I want to kill my fucking father.
I can't believe this. He's such a fucking pervert. He'll come up to me and tickle me, and, well, you know, he gets way too close. Far too close for comfort. When I'm all, "Uh, Dad, I'm too old to be tickled" he just gives me this fucking disgusting smile and says, "No, you're not, you're still my baby girl". Yeah, well, I don't find that cute. I find it fucking perverted. What sort of a father does that? I feel so insecure around my house when my mum's not here, I really do. She's the only one who can put him in place. My brother could, but he moved out because he almost stabbed the fucking cunt.
He'll also sit at home for literally days doing Jack Schitt. He's apparently "sick". He's a bloody hypocondriact, there is absolutely nothing wrong with him. If he has enough strength to drive to Belgium on a booze cruize with all of his mates, spending OUR money on a load of shitty wine and lager, then surely he's fit enough to go back to work. My mum works fucking two jobs to get money for this family and all he does is waste it. I hate him. So fucking much.
As if that isn't bad enough, when I come online after school, he'll be all sneaking up on me and kissing my ear and whispering something like, "Can I go on the computer for a while please, babe". That is not fucking right. Not one bit. Kill me. Please. He smokes like fifty fucking fags a day so he's always breathing all of his shit breath over me. He's like 56, he should be dead by now.
He spends hours and hours playing Solitare. Bullshit. I bet he sits here jacking off to incest or something. I BET THAT'S WHAT HE DREAMS ABOUT. HE'S GOING TO WAIT UNTIL I'M OLDER AND THEN HE'S GOING TO GET ME DRUNK AND THEN HE'S GOING TO RAPE ME. JESUS FUCKING CHRIST. He makes me so paranoid. You know what I dream about? I dream about moving out of this hellhole. Getting away from him. I can't explain how frightened I am of him.
I can't even write a diary about this. Last time I wrote a diary my parents found it and screamed at me for days. I have no privacy around the place. I want to live with my brother and his girlfriend and their cats. They work so much though, I'd hardly see them, even though they live like twenty minutes away from where I am now. So instead I confess my feelings here, in an online journal, that anyone can see. Anyone can read my thoughts here. I'll let complete strangers read my deepest thoughts and emotions but I'm too scared to let my parents see. What sort of a family does that suggest? A fucked up one, that's what.
I'm losing friends by the minute, too. Either that, or they don't give a shit about me. I asked my friend *no names mentioned* if he wanted to go to the cinema, or even just wander around for a couple of hours to get me out of the house until my mum came back. I've told him about my situation and you know what he said? "Sorry, Po, I'm going PlayTime tomorrow, CSS 5-8". He invited me to come which was sweet of him but I really don't think that staying in a room with ten or so sweaty males screaming 'BOOM HEADSHOT' at each other is going to calm my nerves much.
Joy to the world.
I wish I had the guts to run away.
He'll also sit at home for literally days doing Jack Schitt. He's apparently "sick". He's a bloody hypocondriact, there is absolutely nothing wrong with him. If he has enough strength to drive to Belgium on a booze cruize with all of his mates, spending OUR money on a load of shitty wine and lager, then surely he's fit enough to go back to work. My mum works fucking two jobs to get money for this family and all he does is waste it. I hate him. So fucking much.
As if that isn't bad enough, when I come online after school, he'll be all sneaking up on me and kissing my ear and whispering something like, "Can I go on the computer for a while please, babe". That is not fucking right. Not one bit. Kill me. Please. He smokes like fifty fucking fags a day so he's always breathing all of his shit breath over me. He's like 56, he should be dead by now.
He spends hours and hours playing Solitare. Bullshit. I bet he sits here jacking off to incest or something. I BET THAT'S WHAT HE DREAMS ABOUT. HE'S GOING TO WAIT UNTIL I'M OLDER AND THEN HE'S GOING TO GET ME DRUNK AND THEN HE'S GOING TO RAPE ME. JESUS FUCKING CHRIST. He makes me so paranoid. You know what I dream about? I dream about moving out of this hellhole. Getting away from him. I can't explain how frightened I am of him.
I can't even write a diary about this. Last time I wrote a diary my parents found it and screamed at me for days. I have no privacy around the place. I want to live with my brother and his girlfriend and their cats. They work so much though, I'd hardly see them, even though they live like twenty minutes away from where I am now. So instead I confess my feelings here, in an online journal, that anyone can see. Anyone can read my thoughts here. I'll let complete strangers read my deepest thoughts and emotions but I'm too scared to let my parents see. What sort of a family does that suggest? A fucked up one, that's what.
I'm losing friends by the minute, too. Either that, or they don't give a shit about me. I asked my friend *no names mentioned* if he wanted to go to the cinema, or even just wander around for a couple of hours to get me out of the house until my mum came back. I've told him about my situation and you know what he said? "Sorry, Po, I'm going PlayTime tomorrow, CSS 5-8". He invited me to come which was sweet of him but I really don't think that staying in a room with ten or so sweaty males screaming 'BOOM HEADSHOT' at each other is going to calm my nerves much.
Joy to the world.
I wish I had the guts to run away.