Not Exactly...

Hmm... I once did hate my father. If anyone have read any of my stories, I have put in glimpses of how horrible this man was. If you'd ask my mother about him, she would say I was being too kind and not telling you ALL of the truth. Which she does say, when I tell her what I'e said in my EP stories. =p

I began to hate him age 12 and would tell people that my father was dead... or that I never met my father. The second one, my mother didn't want me to say, as that implies that she was wild and didn't know who my father was. Of course, that's not the case! My father abandoned my mother, my siblings, and I... when I was a toddler. But he came back when I was six year old... and made my childhood a living hell. Not just for me, but for my sister and oldest brother too. And my mother didn't have a wonderful time either. So my point is, he did come back, I knew who he was and that was a fib. :-/

Now... I do have some anger, from time to time, towards him... or more like the memory of him. But I don't hate him... that's because I no longer care enough to hate him... I don't care about him at all and if he died, I could care less about that too. I'm pretty sure that's worse than hate, in a way, to have nothing but apathy for a person. But it is my honest feelings on it. I don't love him and I don't hate him. And I rarely think of him... it's only when I am recounting my childhood, or trying to figure out the root of my self-esteem issues, or I hear tales of child abuse (physical and/or emotional abuse), that's when I ever think about him. And the thought is brief and full of disgust... and then I move on. :-)

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Mar 21, 2009