Scheisse!

I didn't want to come home last night. I wanted to be anywhere but home. It's horrible. It's true. If I had had anyone or anywhere to turn to, I would have done so. The thought of wandering the streets of downtown Asheville all night sounded like a good alternative.

Dad went into a rage again today. He feels that when things don't go his way, he has the right to scream and swear and riducle and threaten. Sometimes he "spanks" Lisa, but it's actually hitting her and putting a nice word on it. Sometimes he shoves and throws things at mom. She cries. He has discovered that emotionally I'm quite vulnerable. Though I have a sharp tongue and can come back with slicing remakrs, he's found that if he moves fast enough, he can have me in tears and unable to say anything. He knows that he's killing me (literally). That's why he does it. We all have our weakneses...

So today was just another day of fits. I think he thinks that by screaming and bitching at us, we will respect him more. The fact is, it causes me to lose respect for him... and by the time he's finished telling me what a screw-up, dissapointment, unlovable failure I am, I'm actually not thinking "What a great man. Wow, I respect him." My thoughts are more along the lines of "I hate you with all my being" and "So, if that's who I am, why go on? Why even live?" The answer that I've come to is that my reason to live is this: I have the most amazing friends in the world (I really really do), so they must see something worthwhile in me, eh? I am as of yet to figure out what it is, but their love has kept me going. Without them, I'd truely be lost.

Mom used to always tell me that I would never have a boyfriend unless I changed who I was, because no one would ever want to be with someone like me. She told me that for years. I believed it, but decided that I was not going to change who I was for someone else. Now I am with a great guy, and I changed not a thing about me. Dad says the only reason that Matt (or anyone else) cares about me at all is because they don't "really know" me and that if anyone took the time to get to know me, they would drop me like that **snaps**. Wow, thank you so much for those words of encouragement... screamed at ear-shattering levels and sprinkled with profanity and hate.

Dad used to be an alcoholic. Horrible memories. Days such as this bring them flooding back into my mind. I think that hurts more than the words. Sometimes (frequently) I wonder if dad's been drinking again. I hope not, but it wouldn't suprise me. There has to be some explanation for this.

This is my life. This is my "christian" family. I hate it. I will do just about anything to get out of this house, and I never want to come home. I do so wonder why...

(maybe they're right...)