Warning: I swear a lot in this chapter, sorry but it couldn't be helped.
That prick. That stupid son of a bitch prick.
I knew it was stupid to say, but I'm a teenager I'm suppose to be all moody and say stupid things.
I hit the gas weaving out of my lane. Like hell can he do that to me? Like hell. You know what forget for just a second he's my Father, people don't do this to each other, complete strangers act more civil than my family, and it's just plain wrong.
I lulled myself to sleep the night before with mussing of getting back with him, hell I'll admit I though of a hundred way to kill him slowly and painfully. Sick am I? Sure why not, I mean aren't we all?
Who gives a shit if I miss one dinner party? Newsflash I don't care about my Grandparents. It's not like they give a shit about me. It's not like there even really my Grandparents.
I swear I could run around my house naked screaming obscenities on the top of my lungs and light my ass on fire and my own mother would never bother to look up. Dad's only comment would be something about how I didn't do it right, a real Banks would have gone up in flames faster.
Ass hole. Cheap controlling ass hole. I gritted my teeth. He'd pulled out the big guns last night. He threatened to cut me off, and he can. Why? Because he has no legal obligation to take care of me, I'm not his.
Oh yeah Dad, you're the real man who was willing to stick with your wife who was (then and now) sleeping with anyone who had a pulse. "You should be grateful," That's what he tells me. I am gratefully, gratefully I have no biological relation with you ass wipe. It's not like he's Father of the year or anything. He just quit the NHL so people wouldn't figure out that his wife was making a complete fool of him. Half of the business world already knew; I mean you think my mother would go for a guy that doesn't own a yacht and a BMW?
You know what pissed me off even more, my own mother sitting in the corner nodding. She agrees with him, oh of course she takes his side over this. It's not like they agree on anything else. Whore, stupid good for nothing whore.
I can't say I've ever been this mad in my entire life. I thought kids were suppose to be the one he yelled, "Your not my Father," and stomp off.
Parents don't throw that in their children's faces. I hate that, it's just another thing on a long list that he holds over me. I'm not good enough, I'm don't try hard enough, and if I were his I automatically would have been better, at everything.
Jason tells me to ignore him. Easy for you to say ya perfect bastard. Dad gives him a hard time once, maybe twice a year compared to the daily I get ripped on.
Is it my fault my mom and him don't get along? I mean really, is it my fault they fought so much that sixteen years ago that she had an affair with some dude? It's not like he's that innocent, he's got his sluts all over this fine country. How sick can one family be?
Back on the Hawks, Coach Riley had us play one of those dumb get to know each other games. You thought of one word that described your fellow teammates. Mine was perfect.
Is that really what people see when they look at me? Some bizarre version of perfection? I don't know maybe I'm missing something, but perfect don't seem so perfect. Maybe it's like looking in some old mirror, the pictures all hazy. Maybe people see hazy perfection.
I want nothing more than to smash that mirror.
Dude, that's really dark for me. Can you tell I'm in a bad mood? Don't worry I'll get over it. I know it's short, get over it. It just seemed right at this length. Anyway this may very well be crap that I delete later, but for know I like it fits my mood and was fun to write. Anyway I'd love to hear from you, so review. Rachel
That prick. That stupid son of a bitch prick.
I knew it was stupid to say, but I'm a teenager I'm suppose to be all moody and say stupid things.
I hit the gas weaving out of my lane. Like hell can he do that to me? Like hell. You know what forget for just a second he's my Father, people don't do this to each other, complete strangers act more civil than my family, and it's just plain wrong.
I lulled myself to sleep the night before with mussing of getting back with him, hell I'll admit I though of a hundred way to kill him slowly and painfully. Sick am I? Sure why not, I mean aren't we all?
Who gives a shit if I miss one dinner party? Newsflash I don't care about my Grandparents. It's not like they give a shit about me. It's not like there even really my Grandparents.
I swear I could run around my house naked screaming obscenities on the top of my lungs and light my ass on fire and my own mother would never bother to look up. Dad's only comment would be something about how I didn't do it right, a real Banks would have gone up in flames faster.
Ass hole. Cheap controlling ass hole. I gritted my teeth. He'd pulled out the big guns last night. He threatened to cut me off, and he can. Why? Because he has no legal obligation to take care of me, I'm not his.
Oh yeah Dad, you're the real man who was willing to stick with your wife who was (then and now) sleeping with anyone who had a pulse. "You should be grateful," That's what he tells me. I am gratefully, gratefully I have no biological relation with you ass wipe. It's not like he's Father of the year or anything. He just quit the NHL so people wouldn't figure out that his wife was making a complete fool of him. Half of the business world already knew; I mean you think my mother would go for a guy that doesn't own a yacht and a BMW?
You know what pissed me off even more, my own mother sitting in the corner nodding. She agrees with him, oh of course she takes his side over this. It's not like they agree on anything else. Whore, stupid good for nothing whore.
I can't say I've ever been this mad in my entire life. I thought kids were suppose to be the one he yelled, "Your not my Father," and stomp off.
Parents don't throw that in their children's faces. I hate that, it's just another thing on a long list that he holds over me. I'm not good enough, I'm don't try hard enough, and if I were his I automatically would have been better, at everything.
Jason tells me to ignore him. Easy for you to say ya perfect bastard. Dad gives him a hard time once, maybe twice a year compared to the daily I get ripped on.
Is it my fault my mom and him don't get along? I mean really, is it my fault they fought so much that sixteen years ago that she had an affair with some dude? It's not like he's that innocent, he's got his sluts all over this fine country. How sick can one family be?
Back on the Hawks, Coach Riley had us play one of those dumb get to know each other games. You thought of one word that described your fellow teammates. Mine was perfect.
Is that really what people see when they look at me? Some bizarre version of perfection? I don't know maybe I'm missing something, but perfect don't seem so perfect. Maybe it's like looking in some old mirror, the pictures all hazy. Maybe people see hazy perfection.
I want nothing more than to smash that mirror.
Dude, that's really dark for me. Can you tell I'm in a bad mood? Don't worry I'll get over it. I know it's short, get over it. It just seemed right at this length. Anyway this may very well be crap that I delete later, but for know I like it fits my mood and was fun to write. Anyway I'd love to hear from you, so review. Rachel