I loved you. I truly did. And you were beating me like a dog until blood poured on my back and I thought I'd die.
I remember your voice, "Shut the fuck up, or I'll blow you up again."
And you ripped my soul to shreds. And I inactive wanted you to hug me.
Once. You never hugged.” I loved you. I truly did. And you were beating me like a dog until blood poured on my back and I thought I'd die.
“Mother... you came home at night and smelled like strangers. I was standing in the window watching you walk down the street in those inexpensive heels you bought with my stolen money. I cried quietly due to the fact that I knew it was for me. So we can eat. And you came in, you looked at me with those tired eyes, and you said, "Don't look at me like that due to the fact that I'm ashamed."
And I was ashamed of you. And to myself. Most of all
“When the wife was packing bags, she cried so quietly that I barely heard her. Only erstwhile she raised her voice: “You look at me as an enemy. For individual to destroy. I do not want my children to become you.” I took her by the hand, I wanted to say “I'm sorry”, but it just came out of her throat: “It's your problem that you're so weak.” And I watched him walk distant with 3 small kids, and I stood on the doorstep like an idiot with a bottle in his paw.
The biggest mistake of my life. The biggest.” “The daughter was then 7 years old. I remember her voice on the telephone the last time she called before her wife changed her number: “Dad... why do you drink alternatively of being with us? I love you, but I fear you.” I hung up and threw my telephone against the wall. I cried like a baby. Then I opened another bottle and said to an empty room: “Better that he is afraid. She better hatred me. This is safer”. I lied. I lied to myself.” “Sons... I don’t really know what they look like now.
Do they have beards and pyjamas? Are they tall? Do they remember my voice? Do they really know I'm alive? I would like to tell them: “I'm sorry I was a monster. I'm sorry I left you and your parent alone with all this shit.” But I don't have the guts. I'm afraid to hear, "You're dead to us.
For a long time.” “Sometimes I wake up at night and scream in a pillow: “Why did no 1 save me?! Why didn't anyone take me out of here before I became who I am?!
«. And then I look at an empty bottle and whisper: “Because nobody wanted to save that part of trash. Even I myself.”
"I compose all these comments, these hundreds of posts a day, due to the fact that it's the only way I can feel alive. That something in me is inactive screaming. But inside I know it's not a freedom cry. This is the scream of a drowning man who drowns himself and now drags others down. And most of all, I hatred that I am drawn to myself.”
I'm sorry, all of you.
I'm sorry I couldn't defend her.
I'm sorry that I hatred him and I miss him at the same time.
I'm sorry my wife broke it.
I'm sorry, kids, that I'm a nightmare they can't wake up from.
I apologize to Poland for spitting on her due to the fact that I truly spit on myself.
And most of all, I apologize to myself... due to the fact that I can't stop.
I can’t halt being what I have become.” Then I scope for a glass again.
Because silence is besides loud.
And I'm besides weak to survive. That's who I am.
It's gonna stay that way.
