Fuck you

You fucking ruined me and I fucking hate you for it.

It’s supposed to be getting easier. It’s not. It only gets worse and fucking worse because I realize over and fucking over just how much you fucking ruined me. Every fucking day of my life I realize another way that you fucking destroyed me. Every moment that I walk around feeling 100% like I don’t belong ANYWHERE is because of you. Every time I overreact to someone telling me something is because of you. Every time I have to convince myself to say something to ANYONE that could hurt them or cause them distress it’s because of you.

You pretty much raised me to think that anything that’s ever happened to me is my fault. Either I did something wrong or I didn’t do it well enough or soon enough or fast enough. Everything. Every fucking moment there was something wrong. Nothing could just be good. Everything was always “Good, but…”

I’m afraid of the fucking world and I’m afraid of myself and it’s completely your fucking fault and you fucking won because there’s nothing that I can do about it. Therapy is great. Supposedly sometimes I’m better.

But I get NO fucking closure. None. And I’m so fucking mad at you for that.

Just writing this post is agonizing.

You fucked me up so good that even four years later, I am still afraid of offending or otherwise upsetting you.

I am eternally terrified of failure and it’s your fucking fault and I hate you so much for it.

You used to tell me to stop acting like I was afraid for the other shoe to drop when you were the one who fucking dropped the first one.

My life is one giant fucking gaslit lie. You managed to ruin me so much that I still believe and feel like everything that has every happened to me is my own fault. Fucking everything.

You fucking ruined me and I hate you so fucking much for it. I can’t even throw your fucking jar off of a cliff or in the ocean or down the toilet because thanks to you the idea of doing anything with your remains makes me feel guilty. Thanks to you I feel permanently required to keep your “legacy” alive and if I don’t? My fault. I fucked up.

I moved halfway across the fucking country to get away from you and you still managed to guilt me into coming back east despite the fact that you never ONCE visited me in Arizona. Not a single fucking time.

You were “obligated” to go see my cousins Bat Mitzvahs. Both of them. In California.

But not your own fucking daughter? Do you know how fucking worthless that still makes me feel? You fucking abandoned me. Fuck you for that, too.

I’m fucking middle-aged. I honestly didn’t even fucking know if that would happen or not because you managed to beat me down that fucking much. The fact that I lived this long is just some sort of dumb luck because I still didn’t do anything right.

You fucking ruined me and I hate you for it.

The only way I can be not afraid of pretty much everything is to lie to myself. You fucked me up so bad that you’re DEAD and I’m still completely fucking terrified of you.

Because of being terrified of upsetting you I’m afraid of pretty much everything now. Anything something goes wrong you are there in my mind telling me I deserved it. I either made bad decisions or I just didn’t try hard enough.

Because of being terrified of upsetting you I am terrified of upsetting EVERY OTHER FUCKING PERSON IN MY LIFE.

You fucking ruined me and I hate you so fucking much for it. I will never have more than a full day of feeling “good” because you’re there telling me what’s going to go wrong anyway.

You fucked me up so fucking bad that I’m terrified anytime anything goes really right because you’re telling me I don’t deserve it and it’s going to just go away like everything else and then I can’t enjoy anything because I’m terrified of losing it.

You made me hate my father.

You made me hate my brother.

You made me hate you. This is your fucking fault and I will NEVER fucking forgive you for it.

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