This would be so hilarious if it wasn't so devastating.
The past little while I've noticed as I grow up I become more like you. Your logical mind, your intricate brain. In some ways I enjoy it, excites me. Other times it freaks the hell out of me. I don't want to inherit your anger, your convoluted logic and your chemically imbalanced brain.
I was privvy to one of your lovely arguments with my father, as he came through the kitchen door I heard you scream, as if you were scolding our dogs for something. My dad, possibly trying to ignore it, continues walking. You storm in, slamming the door in a fit of rage and, stomping your feet, signal to my dad to stop walking. You ask what's wrong, and he says "I guess i just can't do anything right." "You know that's not true! I'm not trying to make you feel that way." My dad walks away, down the stairs, and you follow, the convorsation becoming muffled by the drywall between us. I laugh despairingly, as bits and pieces float up. "Yes, it's alll my fault is it?!" I don't even bother to continue listening, I've heard it all before, time and time again. Truth is, it is your fault. But you refuse to see what your bursts of uncontrollable anger do to us. Or maybe you do see you just refuse to acknowledge it. You make him feel like crap, plain out. You nag at him like he's an incompetant infant, a blubbering fool, and then complain about his depression not being as serious as yours. You criticize his weight, tell him to excersize more and to stop eating, without realizing he can barely stand because of his bad back. And when any one of us tries to shed some light on your clearly askew logic, you think we're attacking you, try and turn it all on us, making us the bad guys for wrongfully accusing you. "I'm always the bad guy, I'm a terrible person!" I think you believe it, atleast halfheartedly. But I've given up on trying to decipher the twisty turns of your inner brain. Mainly because I think you've given up too.
"Hear the point! but you can't. And that's the problem."
The past little while I've noticed as I grow up I become more like you. Your logical mind, your intricate brain. In some ways I enjoy it, excites me. Other times it freaks the hell out of me. I don't want to inherit your anger, your convoluted logic and your chemically imbalanced brain.
I was privvy to one of your lovely arguments with my father, as he came through the kitchen door I heard you scream, as if you were scolding our dogs for something. My dad, possibly trying to ignore it, continues walking. You storm in, slamming the door in a fit of rage and, stomping your feet, signal to my dad to stop walking. You ask what's wrong, and he says "I guess i just can't do anything right." "You know that's not true! I'm not trying to make you feel that way." My dad walks away, down the stairs, and you follow, the convorsation becoming muffled by the drywall between us. I laugh despairingly, as bits and pieces float up. "Yes, it's alll my fault is it?!" I don't even bother to continue listening, I've heard it all before, time and time again. Truth is, it is your fault. But you refuse to see what your bursts of uncontrollable anger do to us. Or maybe you do see you just refuse to acknowledge it. You make him feel like crap, plain out. You nag at him like he's an incompetant infant, a blubbering fool, and then complain about his depression not being as serious as yours. You criticize his weight, tell him to excersize more and to stop eating, without realizing he can barely stand because of his bad back. And when any one of us tries to shed some light on your clearly askew logic, you think we're attacking you, try and turn it all on us, making us the bad guys for wrongfully accusing you. "I'm always the bad guy, I'm a terrible person!" I think you believe it, atleast halfheartedly. But I've given up on trying to decipher the twisty turns of your inner brain. Mainly because I think you've given up too.
"Hear the point! but you can't. And that's the problem."
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