I can't stand another moment in the same house as you. You can never shut up about completely mundane things but when I want to talk about anything halfway substantial you clam up and ignore me. I'm your son. You can't just slam the conversational door and yell until I go away. I especially cannot stand how you get to go on and on about how imperfect I am and how MY life isn't good enough but as soon as I criticize the way you stand it's as if hell broke loose. Talking to you (attempting to anyway) is the most frustrating thing I have ever experienced. You are a horrible excuse for a parent and your sense of logic is impossibly skewed. I can't even fathom your thought process. Quite possibly because you don't have one. I have become paranoid because you won't stay out of my life (or at least the parts of it you allow me to take part in) and I've become incredibly apathetic because you have taught me that my efforts mean absolutely nothing to adults. And here's the fun part, you seem so confused about my silence around you. Yes that makes perfect sense. You dictate my life without taking any input PERIOD and you when I don't attempt communication then there's something wrong with ME. You say no every time and wonder why I don't ask? You really don't think EVER do you? I'm not telling this to your face because I'd never get to. You'd just shut it out or yell it back at me just like every bad feeling you ever have. And I get to deal with mine with repression or apathy. I hate you Peter. I hate you so much. When I move out I will NEVER talk to you again. The last communication you will get from me will be in the form of a suicide note. I promise.
I hope you die soon,
Incensed in Indiana
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