Son of a bitch

My father shifted back again, and after all these years, the crazy scumbag can still get to me.

The details are irrelevant. He turned and bit, savagely. His shift from “Good dad”  back to “Evil Bastard John” was marked by his having no memory of the last three weeks, including the room transefer ( where he’s visited me multiple times) or the new number (where he’s called ne just as many)

To stay alive, I eat it and smile.

I’m the only person in the family left that talks to him, thus i am the only one left to turn on when the paranoid, vicious personality re-emerges. And with my current dependence, he can pretty much do it at will.

It’s like Whatever Happened to Baby Jane, only with less makeup and more formal letters.

It would be so much nicer if he’d just fucking die.

Comments

4 responses to “Son of a bitch”

  1. I know some things aren’t funny, but I keep thinking about dead parakeets and laughing.

    *hug*

  2. I went through something horrible with my mother when I was finally out of the hospital. I was in a completely dependent state and she suddenly decided that because she was angry about one of my choices, she’d just leave me to rot.

    I’m still bitter. Both of my parents acted in ways that were appalling during my recent health issues.

    I’m glad you’re at least still smiling even if you’re just eating it.

    When are you going to be able to get out?