I was forced to leave an abusive home at 15. My father sexually abused my sister and I from such a young age, it feels like it never started but just always was. I was homeless - my life was hard, yet I finished high-school and went on to University to make a life for myself (with the much appreciated help of a friends family who let me stay with them on and off). Life has been life; opportunities, love, travel....family just a distant bad memory but not too bothersome....stuffed away where it couldn't hurt me. Found out a month ago that my Dad is sick - the going to die soon kind of sick....wants to see his children with whom he had lost touch with (bad choice of words...yuck). I don't care to see him. That's me trying to be polite. I want that sick f%$k to die and he doesn't get to ask anything from me. I'm relieved that I won't have to walk around and have a panic attack every time I think that I've spotted him in a supermarket or on the street somewhere. Then I am disgusted with myself....I am vile and full of such hate it makes me feel sick....but not sick enough to care My Mum called me a cold hearted piece of work. She was never there for me and I shouldn't care what she thinks. But she is right and I do care. I don't know who to hate the most right now, but I am pretty sure I'll hate myself the most whatever happens right now.