I could write a book on all the shit my dad put me through.
I think maybe I should write it out, even if just to burn.
It was crazy. In a way I liked it. He was a real character. He was diagnosed with NPD, very charismatic and fun, but there was always danger. And I truly don't think he would of felt remorse if he had killed me accidentally.
He did kill someone accidentally. Drove through her house drunk and she had a heart attack. He would laugh every time he told the story. He thought it was funny that it wasn't actually him that killed her so he got off.
He was married four times, once to a woman younger than my older half sister. He destroyed people. He ended up destroying himself, but there's so much I forget about, I think because I want to.
He was a car guy. A car artist I should say. And he loved racing. One time he had me in some car with no roof, no floor, no seatbelt, just me wedged in the back of a two seater, barefoot on metal, watching the driveshaft and the road under my feet 100+mph.
I could go on all day. I couldn't even put a dent in this shit in therapy. So maybe it's time to write it all down. Let it hurt. Nobody and nothing hurt me like he did. Digging up those bones might be a way to let go of the last few things I'm still struggling with.
It was crazy. In a way I liked it. He was a real character. He was diagnosed with NPD, very charismatic and fun, but there was always danger. And I truly don't think he would of felt remorse if he had killed me accidentally.
He did kill someone accidentally. Drove through her house drunk and she had a heart attack. He would laugh every time he told the story. He thought it was funny that it wasn't actually him that killed her so he got off.
He was married four times, once to a woman younger than my older half sister. He destroyed people. He ended up destroying himself, but there's so much I forget about, I think because I want to.
He was a car guy. A car artist I should say. And he loved racing. One time he had me in some car with no roof, no floor, no seatbelt, just me wedged in the back of a two seater, barefoot on metal, watching the driveshaft and the road under my feet 100+mph.
I could go on all day. I couldn't even put a dent in this shit in therapy. So maybe it's time to write it all down. Let it hurt. Nobody and nothing hurt me like he did. Digging up those bones might be a way to let go of the last few things I'm still struggling with.
