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You are just like my father. I fucking hate my father. I mean like Satan incarnate, chomping on your balls like a diseased crab fucking HATE my father. If I could go back in time and kill my father before he was born I would. And I know that’s a paradox. I know that I could unravel the entire space time continuum but I don’t care. I hate him enough to risk it. So yeah. There’s that.
Maybe I should get some help for all that? I got some help. I got more help. I got a lot of fucking help. I went to see a lady. She gave me pills. She liked to talk to me about my problems. She was my feelings doctor.
Have you ever heard that shit? My nephew…for example, my nephew….my nephew…he was in my sister’s arms when her boyfriend – his father – threw her down the stairs. He was three. He had to go to a feelings doctor after that.
You have to express those feelings, young man. Tell the nice lady your feelings. Punch the pillow when you’re angry, or count to ten. Scream. Because if I were you – and I am you – I would want to kill that bastard.
I would fucking love to kill my father. I have fantasized about it for years. I have recurring dreams about strangling him. Be dead, you fucker! Stay dead. Rot, you fucker. I hate you! Look what you did to me!
Fuck you! You make me so angry. You all made me so fucking angry over the years. You reminded me of him.
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