19:04, Tuesday, Oct. 22, 2013
I knew it. I knew it. I fucking knew it.
My dad dropped out from his tafe course on drafting.
As fucking predicted.
And I don't want to feel smug about the fact that my dad failed something in life but I guess I am horrible enough to enjoy my dad contradict his own words, grounding him, dragging him down from that high place he's placed himself on, of impractical ideals spurred by inexperience and ignorance.
All I can hear are excuses that only serve to soften his fall and injured esteem, and he doesn't realise that they're just like the excuses he rejects from me.
I want to be all in his face and give him a piece of his own bite, which has been basically ingrained into me. I just want to return the favour of mental and emotional scarring by shoving the reality of the situation into his throat.
He was lazy. He didn't study. He didn't work hard. That's why he failed. That's why everyone fails. All this time he's only been relying on his natural ability without putting effort when actually, you can't really go anywhere without working hard.
But I don't say it. I don't say anything like that at all. I take his excuses like I actually believe them. And it's only because I don't have the heart to tell him otherwise. Because I know what it feels like to fail and feel like shit and I know what it feels like to feel depressed over something even when you absolutely deserve it. And I know how salt feels on the wound.
So I don't say anything and I even feel sad for him.