When I got back in the house I just laid down on my bed. My dad had left early after the argument. I just couldn't bring myself to feel sorry for him. I know where that gets me every time, and that's hurt and feeling betrayed. All of his words never match up with his actions. He talks a big game but plays in a small field.
I'm so tired of empty promises. I am so tired of people coming in and out of my life whenever they chose. It shouldnt be a choice for my dad, but a obligation and a want and need, but it isn't. I thought I needed him my entire life I thought I struggled so much because he wasn't around but now I'm struggling even more.
Maybe that's why I'm so quick to cut guys off once they hurt me. Because I've given my dad so many chances and I always got so excited every time he'd say he was coming to see me just so he would never show up. I'd wait with a bag of clothes ready for him to take me out and he'd just leave me there. I remember how my eyes would widen every time I'd see a car pass. Everyone told me to just go in the house and get off the step because he wasn't coming, but me being a kid believed what I wanted to.
I thought he was my hero without the cape. Every time I would go over his small shitty apartment which was once a year he would let me eat snacks as meals. Every time I was hungry he would hand me junk food. He would have people over, mainly his little crack whores who would do anything for a line of coke. He would sometimes have men over too, but that's another story my friend.
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Mind Bottles
General FictionA story a about a fat babe thats madly in love with a drug dealer. Love always comes with a cost, but is the price too high? Don't mind the shitty structure and lack of fancy words ⚠ Explicit Content Slowly Editing • Completed •
