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Wednesday, April 1, 2020

An Explanation

There isn’t a single word in any language to describe how I hate that sorry excuse of a human.

I’ve been waiting my whole life for the day my father dies. Hasn’t come yet. No, this is not spiteful, it’s out of self-preservation. He’s bullied and abused me my whole life, while his chosen, older child is praised for simply existing.

Older child was a druggie, smoked in high school (which got her arrested, and yes, I laughed), and was basically the kind of child every parent fears getting. No, I was not without fault or problems, but mine seemed to be fodder for his own entertainment.

I was born with Bipolar Disorder. I didn’t acquire it later in life. So, naturally, I was a difficult and angry child. My tantrums were legendary. However, instead of trying to calm me, he would make fun of me, and poke and prod until he was laughing hysterically and felt that his need for entertainment was fulfilled. And more often than not, he was the reason I was pitching a fit to begin with. Great father, eh? I can’t even tell you how many times I told him I wanted him to die. Mom always got mad when I would say it, but she didn’t understand why I did. 

Fun fact about narcissists: They pick on the empathetic people around them. The older child has as much empathy as her father, as she is also a narcissist. This kept her immune from the abuse. I’ve always been sympathetic and empathetic towards people. A narcissist isn’t born, they are made. I saw the pain in him. It was all over his face. He used this as kindling for what would become his raging fire against me. 

I haven’t said more than five words to him in over a year now. If I don’t tell him anything, he has no fuel. However, mom tells him everything, anyway. I try to not react to the crap that flows so fluently out of his mouth, but sometimes, it’s a lost cause. And his behaviors seem to have worsened in this last year, if that was even possible.

Nobody believes me when I tell them the things he’s done. They aren’t around all the time, so all they see is a funny guy. Yeah... he’s super funny. 24/7 jokes and what he considers to be clever comments. The only things he takes seriously are the perceived attacks on him. These include, but are not limited to: 

- Closing the basement door so the stench doesn’t come up.
- Mentioning, yet again, that his body odor stinks up the whole house after he exercises.
- Not laughing at every... single... joke.
- Pointing our that he has been told something before.
- (And my personal favorite) Pointing out that the basement is a mess.

Yes, he has done good things, but he’ll remind you of every single one. He worked extra overtime to buy me my beloved clarinet. This was shoved in my face for around ten years. Oh! And not to forget that I’m stuck living with my parents, and still financially dependent on them (despite my desire for independence). He said, and I quote, “Everything we buy you is a gift, and can be taken back at any time”. This statement came after I put a note on a soda saying it was mine. Mind you, he wouldn’t have drunk it anyhow. He just had to assert his perceived dominance.

So I will continue to wait for the day I am free of this (insert profanity of choice), praying it comes soon. Whether it be through death, or my ability to leave, I really don’t care at this point.

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