This post will be boring to any normal person...BWAHAHA It's just me getting stuff off my chest.

Do you ever not say something because you know the consequences will be huge?

I have bit my tongue for so many years in regards to my dad. Sometimes I just want to unleash and be done with him. He left town again without telling me, and I had sent him an email a while back. When he wrote back, I told him I had not appreciated him leaving town without telling me.

You know, my dad is EMO. I hate emo. Everyone in the world is against him and doesn't appreciate the man he is. He might as well die. (And I say the last two sentences from his point of view.)

So back to the emailing with my dad. He said he didn't bother telling me (despite that I have asked him numerous times that he let me know if he's going out of town.) because I wouldn't care anyway. And he is right. He can come and go as he pleases, but if there was an emergency of any sort, that is good information to have. And then he snidely remarked that he didn't want to call because I told him that whenever he called me it was to tell me what I'd done wrong. I told him that once and he will never let me forget it. But what I said was true. When he's in one of his depressive states and does all this thinking, he calls me to either ask questions about my mom, or tell me how I've let him down.

I wrote him back. I resisted telling him to be a man and stop blaming everyone for his unhappiness and to let go of the past. I told him he made it difficult for people to care about him yet he wants people to show that they care. Unfortunately, to him...having everyone do what he wants them to do is showing they care.

I doubt he's forgiven me for not taking his mistress' luggage for her on my flight. 

The only reason why I am still even talking to this man is because of this sense of duty. He has been pretty unsupportive of me aside from providing me the necessities. I have no faith in him. I don't even put him down as an emergency contact person. He can't be relied on.

There are lots of childhood memories that I still remember but would never think to throw in his face. I don't want to be like him. I don't want to list everything to him that he's ever done to hurt me. But I've never really told anyone. At least he never beat me. And growing up was not that bad even though I'm probably making it sound like I was abused.

The relationship I have (had?) with my father has definitely influenced that way I am, more so than with my mom, and I'm closer to her. People who don't keep their word irritate the hell out of me. People who don't take responsibility for their own actions irritate me.

One time, I was out shopping with my parents. I can't remember how old I was, but my mom went to the bakery and my dad crossed the street to go to the supermarket. Neither of them told me who I was going with, so I ran after my dad across the street. Now I realise I was almost hit by a car. (Maybe I hadn't learned to look both ways before crossing the street?) The driver yelled at my dad to tell him to watch me, and my dad yelled back, "hit her! I don't care!"

My dad didn't teach me to ride a 2-wheeler. My uncle taught me when I was in Hong Kong. But when we came back home,  my dad didn't continue, but he took off the training wheels a year later. It's too bad my dad doesn't realise children don't have the mental or emotional capacity of an adult. Him telling me I was useless was supposed to motivate me to be angry enough to learn how to ride a bike because he failed at it. There was no push off from dad. I used the fence in our backyard for support on one side and lots of push offs with my own feet. I remember how the prickley fence felt and how I hoped I wouldn't get splinters, and I was crying, too. It was horrible, but my parents remember it being as something funny.

Another time in high school, the day before an English test, I talked to my mom about something that should have remained private between us, but she told my dad (my mom lived for my dad. I didn't have any support from her either. She always sided with him.). I think I was having issues with him, and he freaked out. I don't remember about what exactly but he ended up sobbing and losing his mind. And then I had to pretend that I was an ungrateful daughter and to reassure him. I do remember me reminding him that he told me he didn't want me when I was born. 

And school...all I did was get yelled at if I got Cs (or lower). Good grades were a must. (Thankfully, I excelled in high school without too much effort.) He never went to any parent-teacher conferences or any band concerts...nothing. But there was one time in the third grade where there was some event. I remember him complimenting one of my friend's work that was hung on the walls. "Dad, is my writing good?" "Not really." "Dad, how was my piano playing?" "It could use some work." I'm not sure if ever looked at my work, but he demanded I have good grades.

There was a time when he'd "help" me with my Social Studies in elementary school. I'd read the textbook, and then go sit on a stool while he sat in his La-Z boy in the Games Room. He wouldn't have read the textbook, but he'd ask me questions from it. He'd yell a lot if I didn't know the answers.

What I hated was when my two (male) cousins were living with us when they were going to high school. He took an interest in them. "Rosie, you should read Ed's essay. It's really good." Nice.  

My dad likes to use fear to get his way. His motto always was, "more crying, more beats."

What I feel the worst about is that I feel sorry for my dad.  

What a long rambling post. I am much happier when I don't have to deal with him. I just push everything down and try to forget. He's a ticking time bomb, and I think when he passes, I will feel much relief. I have given up on having any kind of real relationship with him. Maybe I gave up a long time ago.