My father is bitter, verbally abusive, a liar, a hypocrite, a self-absorbed man with a little man and victim complex. He never takes responsibility for any error, instead blaming anyone and everyone around him for his failures in life, and if he drops a screwdriver, someone made him do it!
He's told me and my brother numerous times that if it wasn't for us, he would have had a good life.
The last time he told me that, I told him he should have kept it in his pants.
For the most part I lived in fear of him. When I heard the door close my heart would speed up, my breathing would quicken, and I would hide if I could do it quickly and quietly enough.
Above all, he taught me how to hide everything. Once his words bit deep enough, "Want me to give you something to cry about?" he would ask. He's a coward who has nothing but venom.
I don't remember much of my younger years, but I do remember asking, pleading for him to hit me, because it would hurt less. He would make us stand still and he would throw lit matches at us, he would order us to grab the electric fence. He always thought it was funny. He thought it was a joke when he had me on my knees as he hit me with the cattle prod.
I hate him. I hate him because he's my father and I love him, and he has raised me to hate him.
It's all in the past now and I avoid thinking on it, but those sappy tv father/son moments get to me because I certainly know what I didn't have. I never went to him for anything, never asked his opinion, never asked for help.
I was shy and quiet back then, and I'm shy and quiet now, but I don't take shit from anyone. I told him if he ever hits me with the cattle prod again I would break it over his fucking head and shove it up his ass.
Happy Father's day to those deserving, and to a better tomorrow. Cheers.