I know that I am not the daughter that you always wanted. I don't like pizza, ice cream, hot dogs, or hamburgers, while you're the King of it all. I know that I don't get out as much as you want me to, and that I like skulls and black more than you want me to. And I know that I'm a complete disappointment to you and Mom.
Seeing how I know all of this already, and I feel bad enough about it as it is, there is no need to make me feel worse. Almost everything I try to do, I do for you. I get good grades and do my best in everything I try, just to make you happy. And yet you feel that I am inadequate. I wish that I could say that it doesn't hurt anymore, since you've been doing this to me for years.
But Dad, I can't. If anything, it hurts worse. No matter how many times you say you're sorry, the memory of it is still there, because I know this is how you feel inside, and (as you've told me thousands of times) you only say sorry if it was an accident.
People are different. We all have different tastes. Some like pizza, while others don't. Some people don't like chocolate. Some don't like the color black. We're supposed to celebrate our differences. Yet you make me feel like an outcast in my own home.
And you wonder why I don't want to talk to you anymore.
With all due respect,
*Name Omitted*
***********************
Sorry y'all, I really needed to get that off my chest. And every word of it was true. I could go into some sob story about how I was ostracized by my family since I was about seven, or how no matter what I do I feel that my father will never appreciate me for how I am, but I'm not gonna because I don't feel like it.
welcome to MY black parade . . . (don't sue me!) where my black heart can shine with its ebony light. where I can shed my skin weaved from lies and dance in the flames of life. where my soul can swell in hapiness . . . of being me.
~Jink, who realizes that this post sounded sort of emo-ish and gothic . . . and enjoys the fact
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