Deception's Disciple

Book of Lies
2003-04-22 04:55:51 (UTC)

A long short story

It has been a long day, a long week.... a long life.

Everyday I wake up hoping that something will be different.
Everyday I wake up hoping to be in a better body, living in
a different house hold living a completely different life.
But every morning I'm disappointed.

I guess it's time for another story, it's called:

MY FATHER: THE ADULTERIST

I hope you kids have no where to go... I know I don't.

when I was 2 years old, my mom would be pacing around the
house wondering where my dad was every night, she would
right him letters when he "travelled" to other cities,
telling him how much she needed him home and how she needed
help raising his children (2). But good old daddy dearest
couldn't keep his penis in his pants... at my wild age of 9
things started to get a bit more hectic. Dad was coming
home less frequently and mom started to get a lot more on
edge. There were days that I would wake up in the middle of
the night to her packing up all his clothes and placing
them on the porch and those were on the "ok" days. Other
days they would be arguing as I tried to play loud music in
my room to drown them out(always failing)... and as me and
my not so bonded brother would watch tv like nothing went
on. Sometimes we would get caught in the middle; hearing
comments like "daddy is off with his other family" and I
was nieve enough to believe it was funny, and that we truly
were the only one.

Not long after that, the truth came out... I had to be 14
when my dad, for the second time was finally gone. I didn't
take it as hard as I thought. Maybe because it was better
that they were apart, and I knew it. However, for me it was
torture. Not because I missed him but I knew that my mom
did. And she made it very apparent that I was the child
that took after my father. I was the one that reminded her
of him every waking moment. So, because of this obvious
fact, I got the brunt of her intolerable rage and
unreasonable punishment. She was a bitch most of the time,
she was no longer nice, and day after day I couldn't
understand what I did wrong, but there was always
something. Not a day went by when she wasn't literally
walking in the door from work yelling at me for something I
might have done wrong. Soon, I stopped coming home every
afternoon to avoid the torture, but then she began trying
to track me down saying what a horrible daughter I was and
that I was whore.

Week after week, and month after month the same repeat
performance. But dad would stll come by on weekends and try
and heal the damage of a week without him; in 2 days... and
usually less than that... 4 hours. And for awhile after he
left I felt safe from the claws of that cougar, but as soon
as monday rolled around, I was at her mercy once again.

One lucky week (or so I thought) the inevidable happened.
Mom needed a vacation alone, without us. And we were
thrilled!! Dad was going to watch us. When mom said that, I
automatically assumed he would be sleeping over. Yet again,
I was proven wrong. Instead, he would come home at 5:00pm
watch us till 11:30pm and then after a quick nap on the
masterbed, he would go home. Lucky me, no freedom and no
father. I didn't think at that point that things could get
any worse, but they did. I realized for me... things always
got worse......I'll never forget that day, I had a shitty
day at school, I spoke with Chris and I came home to find
my SISTER in my house....

I didn't know I had a sister.
I didn't know that she was 7.
I was 17 and needless to say, I was shocked. I was also
disgusted. How could he?!? how could he bring her over and
flaunt this product of infidelity and lack of commitment in
my face. Why not just spit on me. I had to leave. I didn't
know what to do. I didn't know her name, and frankily I
didn't care. Not until I heard it. It was just like mine.
not identical but close enought to her the similarity (e.g
if my name is beth, her name would be Elizabeth)this put a
spin on things. Nevertheless, I didn't like her. Well I
understand that is unfair to hate her because of what she
is, she couldn't help being a product of my dad's hot
affair, however, she could prevent herself from saying
things like let me call "MY" dad. I don't do that to her,
why does she choose to seperate the two families that share
the one father even more? What an accident she was, has
anyone ever told the bitch that? I doubt it. She should be
told, but I'm not going to be the one. I know she alrady
knows. However, What I want her to know, and, everyone else
in my family to know is that I want NO part in this
disgusting exuse for disfunctional family, I don't like
being treated like shit from everyone I know. No half
sister is going to out shine me, and if she does, I still
want nothing to do with her. To me, she is not my sister,
she is not my blood, she knows nothing about me and I know
nothing about her, and I want to keep it that way.
If I'm a bum on fire in the street I would prefer to have
anyone else but her put the fire out on me because I think
I would like to burn over giving her any type of
acknowledgement or respect.

Now as the story draws to a close, I hope that you will all
find it interesting to know that dad still comes around
every sunday to do some fine tuning on my mom to keep her
off my back... but they are seperated.... but they still
refer to eachother as husband and wife.... but only when it
seems fit. And good old sis, I see her sometimes when she
is brought over to my house to be shown to my mom and the
rest of the family as momento (i guess) of some sort. At
which point, I am unfriendly and go to my room or do my
usual ritual of leaving the house in disgust.

I hope you enjoyed the story, and don't be too disappointed
there are more depressing life stories to come!




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