Dad, I hate you. Through my life you have always held your fist to my face. You pushed me down when I tried to stand, you screamed in my face until my voice would fade to silence, you hit me, you abused my mother, and worst you abuse yourself every day. You would think that from everything you have gone through with your father being a violent alcoholic, that you would grow up to know that its wrong. And no, you followed in his footsteps. I tried to help you, I tried my best to understand that alcoholism is a disease and that you need support, but every time I tried to tell you, you pushed me back down again. I have no self confidence anymore. Every time I felt good about something, you beat that down again and again until I gave up. I was raised by you to believe that I do not have a say in anything, which still carries on with me today. When I thought I was strong enough to make a stand, or to defend my mom, you hit me again. I hope it hurt when I hit you back, I hope you bled for hours, and even more I hope your bleeding inside knowing that you have treated your own blood badly enough to turn me against you. I tried, I really did try to understand. I tried to work things out between you and I. I even asked you if you would like to go to counselling with me, and you didn't. I guess its hard to repair a bridge...when you never built it in the first place. I still feel my own self-hatred, feeling like I was the one to give up, and that I am the bad person. Times like these I would love to just sleep away, never to wake up and return to this place. I'm in big debt already, its my little brothers 16th bday today and I can't afford to buy him anything, and with every passing month its getting worse. I thought I could do this, living on my own, but I'm starting to think maybe I can't. Maybe my dad was right all along. I feel so worthless.