Abuse

I guess it's only as soon as I woke up on the floor, my glasses askew, that I could finally understand the terrible truth.  The terrible price of freedom.

I would love to believe.
I would love for you to love me.

Your belief in RELIGION fucked me up.

And your belief separates me from you.
You've chosen the easy way, Dad.

You need comfort, but not the comfort of your god.
You need...you need...you need an embodiment.

Don't ever think I've forgotten your singular backhand.
Don't ever think I've forgotten how I inconvenienced you with my blood.

Strap a bomb on, Roger.  You aren't that far away.

I can say this:  I'm sorry that my blood intruded on your prayer meeting.
I'm sorry that I think that your running to Suffern every Sunday is worse than my running to Dubai.

Beverly is dead.  She was more yours than she was mine, and you forsook her.  Not because you didn't love her, but because you're weaker than I have ever been.  Your weakness is why you joined the Navy, why you joined the Salvation Army, why you married her, and why you preached the rapture of the saints every sunday.  Weakness doesn't absolve you, and your belief can't save you.

You believe in a god.  The same god that you made me believe in.  The same god that took her.  How fucked up is that?  your god wanted her to die.  that's what you pretend you believe.  that's some fucked up shit.  the same deity you've pretended to believe in took your wife.  Isn't it easier to see the can of mom's ashes than it is to remember how she held your hand?   That same hand you wanted to use against me?  Do you remember that hand?  Probably not.  Holiness has that wonderful attribute of negating memory.  

Really?  Marriage?  Jesus isn't enough for you?  Hahahah That's the funniest shit I've ever heard.  Yet you subjected me to god and jesus and belief and how god was enough for all of our weaknesses and all of our strengths and so much fucking bullshit.  Fuck you for changing gears so easily.  and fuck you for ever hitting me.  don't think i've ever forgotten it.  And fuck you for forcing your chameleon beliefs onto me.  If i had known then, I wouldn't still be thinking in terms of the redeemed and the forsaken; I wouldn't be so scared of authority, and I wouldn't be so insecure.  So, thanks.  Your fake belief ruined me.  Awesome.

Maybe that is the best thing you have ever given me:  the outrage and hurt and memory.  I still remember when you called me out on strikes in Little League, and I still laugh at it.  I don't laugh at your hand on my face, I don't laugh when I remember the reason, and I don't laugh when I think of all the bullshit you shoved on me because you were too weak to admit that you were hurt.

Not because you are going to your hell.
Nor because I could ever go to your heaven.

You hurt me.

Not because you drew my blood, but because you inculcated this belief that I can't get out of my head.  That's abuse, pure and simple.  You abused me.  Out of your own weakness.  And I despise you for it.


My dream is that we can meet for lunch.  We will both order a sandwich, and you will finally say you love me for who I am.

Stupid dreams.