Hello dad...

..what's up? It makes a while we did not talk. 12 years and 6 months, today.

For a long time I did not want to, because the only thing I could do is blaming you; blaming you for everything that happened to us, to ME.

I always thought I was the only responsible of what was happening to me. I was wrong.

I am 40, I never liked to work. I never wanted to have kids. I never wanted a wife. My head is screwed up, full of bad memories and traumas, coming from you.

Yes, I am responsible in part because I did not know what to do. But now, I know: I can blame you for this.

Why dad? Why all that violence? Why hitting me as a child, at three, four or five years old like you did? Why all this yelling, telling me I was nothing, weak, stupid, a bunch of shit and all these atrocities? Why dad?

Why hitting my mom, forcing me to defend her? Why my sister? Why me, when I was the only child in the house, because my sister was smart enough to get out of the house.

You were suppose to show me life. How life was beautiful, how it was a gift that I should enjoy for every second offered to me?Is this life dad? Is it really? Because I remember only one thing: life is a bitch, then you die.

I know you suffered in your life, but today, I know you can see me from up there (even if I wish you were burning in hell) do you see who I am? What I have become? Is this the future you wanted for me? Is this the son you were so proud of?

You know, I have met your friends. They always told me: "Your father was proud of you." I was always answering: "If you want to believe a liar, it's your problem" and I was so laughing at their faces.. because all my life I was for you, just a big fucking piece of shit giving you troubles. How many times you told me I was a son of a bitch?

Yup, I can not deny it: you gave me great material things, but at what price? The price was high.

I knew work as a consequence. I was doing something bad, you always sent me work and do cheap fucking stupid work in your warehouse. I never considered work as a passion, as a pleasure. I always considered work as a consequence, a shitty thing I had to do.

I never wanted kid, because I was always told: every man becomes his father. I did not want to have kids and be an asshole like you were. A fucking alcoholic. A son of a gun making suffer what he should love the most in his life and do everything he can to protect them. Why having a wife, if it is to tell her atrocities like you did to yours?

And what about that morning of September 1992? Do you remember dad? Do you remember the drunk, coked man you were this Sunday morning? Do you remember that in less then a minute, that big house we built as a family, was switched in a giant bomb that could have destroyed the entire block, because you emptied FIVE GALLONS of oil gas in the basement, and you were ready to BURN US ALL ALIVE at seven o'clock? Do you remember dad? It was more then twenty years ago, but I do remember, like if it was yesterday. All this because mom wanted to protect us and did not want to give you money so you can get more cocaine and beer.

You know what? I wish she had done it. You were so mad and you so wanted a dose, I am sure it would have been your last one, the one killing you. But no, my mom was still loving you and "save" you. I hate her for this.

What about my friends? No, you are right, I never had friends BECAUSE OF YOU. Nobody was good enough for me. They were all stupid assholes. I believed you, because you were my father and you were suppose to know the truth. I was wrong: you were the stupid asshole. Nobody could not ever come at home to play with me. I always had to go somewhere else, but very restricted. My "friends" were not because their parents hated you. "If you can not go there, he can not come here."

All the "education". It cost you a lots of money hey? Well it cost me, again, a big part of my life.

"Maybe I was an alcoholic, but you are a doped" NO I AM NOT. You see, I'm with people who cares for me since two days, with people who are interested in what I am living and want to help me. I do not need weed and I still do not need alcohol. I needed drugs to forget the piece of shit I was for you. I choose to be a peacefull weed smoker then and alcoholic asshole like you.

You were an asshole and this is still what I think of you today. You never deserved me, my sister or even your wife. You never deserved all that you had. You did not even deserved to live sixty-one years.

What you really showed me about life is that asshole have everything they want.

But you were right at one place in all that. I am nothing and I prefer this, then to be an asshole like you and have all that I want. I prefer to have what I NEED.

Go fuck yourself dad! Stay there and enjoy heaven, because once I passed on the other side, I am soooo gonna go see Pete, the doorman, telling him who you are really, so I can bring you back with me, in Hell, where I can see you burn into ashes and suffer for the eternity.

Yesterday was fathers day and your funeral celebrations. I really celebrated yesterday. I celebrated freedom, joy and happiness. I celebrated the fact, that the person who screwed me up to that point was not anymore and nothing can make that shit come back to me.

Today it is your birthday and I DO NOT GiVE A FUCK.

No, I did not talk about what you created that I have to call my sister. She is worse then you. I do not know how you educated her, but it is another master piece of shit, coming from you.

It was le last time ever I was talking to you. If you are really my dad, the man so proud of his son, the man that loves me sooooo much, but never had the guts to tell me in face anything else that the shit I was, you will make that wish come true: I wish I will never think of you again.



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