Dear Dad,
You know I love you, right? Your my dad. I have to.
But sometimes... I think I hate you.
You know I love animals, right?
Hell, you are the one who told me that I shouldn't be a vet because I love animals too much, and I wouldn't be able to handle it if one died!
So... why are you always telling me about bad things that have happened to animals? I don't want to know how the poodle exploded,
No, I wasn't talking about putting the cat in the microwave,
and no, I don't want to hear about anything else similar.
Why? Don't you know it hurts me?
Call me a wuss, call me a sissy, call me whatever you want.
It hurts me to hear bad things about animals. Sometimes physically.
So please, won't you stop talking about stuff like that?
I wish I could really ask you this without you being offended or hating me.
I know you won't stop.
Dad, I love you,
but you are one of the reasons I want to move out.
I'm sorry.
Love,
your first daughter.
Oh, and Marcel isn't coming over monday.
I think he hates me.
I was remembering something that happened the last time he was here.
I made a fool of myself,
and ended up calling his mother a bitch.
It was on accident, it really was.
But I think he secretly hates me,
or is ashamed of me.
I have to go now,
do something,
something that doesn't involve pain,
because I'm about to start crying,
because I'm an emotionally weak bitch who can't do anything for herself.
And I can honestly say that I hate myself. More then I hate people, more then I hate anything else in the world, I hate myself.
If I could be anybody else, I would have killed me already.
Your support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)
