Ever since I broke up with the last bitch who betrayed me and got a restraining order against me and left me with nothing but the clothes on my back , I ’ ve been sleeping on my dad ’ s couch whenever I can ’ t or won ’ t sleep somewhere else .
Dad is a light sleeper and he ’ s likely heard me tread across the kitchen and into the living room where I sit on the couch that I ’ m too wired with adrenaline and drugs to sleep on . I don ’ t care if my dad wakes to go to the bathroom and sees me sitting cutting up lines of cocaine on his coffee table . Dad knows I ’ m a piece of garbage , so what ’ s the point in hiding it ? Besides …
I love my dad . He ’ s a good , caring and honest man . If it wasn ’ t for the fact that I knew that he would always be there for me if I needed him , I would have killed myself a long time ago . But I don ’ t understand .
Why did my dad allow the beatings to go on ? Why did he stand by as the world crushed me ? Why didn ’ t he say “ No more ” to my mom ’ s insistence that I get dragged to all those psychologists and counsellors and doctors to find out if I was some kind of retard ? Why didn ’ t my dad put his foot down and say “ no more ” to my brother ’ s constant taunts of nigger , nigger , nigger and the fact that all those thugs came into the house , my own fucking house , every day and kicked the shit out of me while my brother just joined them and laughed ? Why did my dad hire that bitch babysitter ? Why did he let all of that happen ? How is it that no one seemed to give a shit ?
My dad was a smart man , he must have known . Why didn ’ t he put his foot down ? Maybe I was a “ troubled ” kid just like all the teachers and counsellors and principals said , but were they all so blind that they couldn ’ t see me crying , pleading for someone to help me ? Crying out for someone , anyone , to listen and to see and to put their foot down and say , “ No more !”
The arrests for shoplifting , for stealing a purse , for breaking into a pub and all the detentions and expulsions from school- were they all too blind to see that I was just crying out for help ? Why didn ’ t anyone help me ?
Sometimes I wonder who would have come screaming to crucify me if I had acted on the voices in my head .
At first when I was 10 years old it was all of “ them ” that the voice told me to kill . If I had acted on those voices , people would have cared , because I was a “ troubled ” kid . People cared about their little angels , and a monster like me should just be locked away forever so I never hurt anyone again . I was a fuck up .
I ’ m pretty sure that if I act on the same voice that now tells me that I should blow my own brains out , not too many people are going to give a shit . If someone finds my brains splattered against a door or a wall one day , I don ’ t think it will matter much .
No-one will care .
My Dad is a very good man , but he should have put his foot down . He didn ’ t . Now if he wakes in the early morning and sees his son snorting rails of cocaine on his coffee table and he feels sad and helpless , well , it ’ s too late .
My blood becomes filled with more stimulants which makes sleep impossible . The rays of the rising sun begin to peer through the side window and soon my dad will be up . I love my dad and though my body is exhausted from a lack of nourishment and sleep , I ’ d rather not be there awake when he comes out to make the morning coffee , so I go back out to my car and drive further , to another house . I walk up the backstairs , tap on the window and listen .
You ’ re such a waste of skin !