The title pretty much says it all at this point. I’m not looking forward to this coming week because I get the “pleasure” of having a movie night with my father. Yay me. At least it’s a movie and we don’t have to talk, right? We hardly talk to begin with. Plus, every time I see him the words “one day you’re going to wake up and realize that she’s(my mom) the bad guy and I’m the good guy” scream in my mind as well as “you’re just collateral damage.” Yeah. And people wonder why I’m so bitter towards him and his fake attempts to get to know me. I lived in the same house with him for seventeen years. You’d think he would have gotten to know me then but no. He never so much as spoke to me then. Sorry to all of the forgivers out there. He doesn’t get a smidgen of my forgiveness or sympathy.


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