I hate my father. I said it. I hate him. I hate everything about him. Sometimes I wish he’d just disappear. Just go burn in Hell. I can’t even call him a father. He never acts like one. He’s never home, he works two jobs to support us. Yes, ok fine. Good. That’s wonderful. That doesn’t mean he can treat me and my brother like crap. Not once in my life has he hugged me. Never, NEVER, have I ever heard him say “I love you.” It’s hard to believe someone like him could care. He’s a god in his own mind. All I’ve ever done is try to make him happy, but all I ever hear from him is “Stop being selfish. Think about someone else for once in your life. Learn how to care. How is my child so stupid? Why can’t you do anything useful? You can’t do anything for yourself can you. Don’t be so heartless. You’re such a failure. You’re so weak.” Every single one of my failures hangs over my head, and he takes every chance he gets to remind me. To tell me what a s*** human being I am. I’ve done so many things. He’s taken away everything that’s ever made me smile. I gave up my dreams just so he could be proud of me. He wants nothing less than for me to worship the ground he walks on, to be his mindless little drone. I’m so terrified of him. Every moment I spend at home is miserable. Every time I leave his presence I just shiver and cry. I can barely stand being awake anymore. Please. Please just stop hurting me.