Blast to the Past

So, I am currently sorting through old documents. It’s fun. I found a paper I wrote back in 2007 and I was caught off guard that I was this open and this vulnerable with a professor. I can assure you it wouldn’t happen today. But yet… it’s a perfect glimpse into who I was at the time.

So. Free reign of a journal topic, eh? Don’t you realize this is a dangerous thing to put in the hands of *full name*? I feel like I should insert an evil cackle here. Something sinister. But alas, I shall go on and ramble about something that likely has no importance. Not that is out of the ordinary, mind you. Anyway. Back on topic (like I had a topic to begin with!). I am annoyed with my father today. I know, this is a rather personal topic, but I need to get it off my chest. So I guess this is my chance to rant and whine, eh? (I’m sounding rather Canadian today. Blame it on spending 3 weeks in school in Windsor, Ontario). My father is… a bunch of words I cannot say in this paper. There are no nice words to describe him. He… I don’t even know how to put it. His last email sent me off the wall. He was saying crap like how I was his “best friend” (bullhockey), and how much he loved me. I hate his mind games. He treats you like crap, putting you down (this is the man who told me I wouldn’t make it in college!), and then turns around and says he loves you. Drives. Me. Batty. I finally got up the galls to tell him exactly what I thought of him, and man it felt good! Of course, I was polite. No use getting nasty back, eh? I told him I was no longer his punching bag. I would no longer allow his to push me around. Of course, he hasn’t emailed me back yet. Which means one of two things. Either he hasn’t made it to the library to read it yet (he’s not allowed to have a computer in his home – long story which isn’t fit for this journal entry), or I’ve royally ticked him off. I’m assuming the latter. Not like I care. He’s ticked me off enough times, and I’ve finally reached the final straw.  No more pushing Angelique around, no sir! I’ve had enough of his crap. In fact, I think I shall write a poem in his honour:

Sunshine and daises, butterflies and roses

Standing in church, striking our poses

Acting like all is fine and swell;

Ignoring the fact we’re living in hell

Your words wound the depths of my heart

Because of you, I’m falling apart

I reach out my hand, longing for your touch

You push me away, I’m asking too much

I’m your puppet, a victim of your game

Each day it goes on, each day it’s the same

You only care about one person – you

Not caring about what others are going through

I have learnt that you don’t matter at all

There’s others to pick me up when I fall

I have broke free of the past, free of the chains

Taken back control, grasping the reigns

I’m no longer the person you forced me to be

Time has passed on; and I’m finally free

That’s not the best of my poems, not by a longshot. But.. It’s jut something I had to get off my chest. I have far better poems, that one kind of… well, it sucks. But that’s okay. Anyway.  I do love my father, don’t get me wrong. But in the same way…. I hate him. Is that possible? To love someone so much that you hate him? To hate someone so much that you love him? Am I even making sense? I don’t know. All I know is I’m finally free of his sick mind games and cruel ways of being. I’m no longer his victim, a player in his game. He is finally out of my life (until he answers the next email, and these last few emails will likely be the last contact I ever have with me), and I am finally starting to achieve happiness.

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