Alt-J were lovely, although the past couple of days with my super foggy sad mind making me feel shit kind of ruined it. Not completely though, still enjoyed it. Just excited to get home and chill and eat.
Fuck you for years of abuse. Fuck you for the shame I felt, and still feel. Fuck you and your self pitying, selfish sob stories. Fuck you for making me feel guilty for pushing you out.
I’m not obliged to talk to you, I owe you nothing. And I hope that your guilt for everything you’ve done to me haunts you. I hope you feel the need to drink yourself into a stupor - and eventually into an early grave - because you can’t cope with remembering.
But at the same time I want your approval, I want your attention, I want to know that you’re okay. I want your slurring drunken words and to sit by as you fight your demons - not looking upon you with sympathy but with true pity. You will never be enough of a man to stand up, pull yourself together, apologise for everything and get yourself on a path of redemption. I sometimes wonder if you even care that much. I find true comfort in the fact that you will never, ever have the opportunity again to destroy me the way you destroy yourself.
You’re right - if I can’t be bothered to answer your calls we probably should just “call it quits” - but that doesn’t mean I won’t resent you for it, Dad.
"The bravest thing I ever did was continuing my life when I wanted to die."
- Juliette Lewis (via frankie-wolf)
(Source: fleshscars, via lunarlovenotes)
