I don't often talk about this, it's a very touchy subject for me, but it's good letting it out and I take some comfort in knowing it's all anonymous too. It is a long read and just a vent about my inner demons, so don't read if you're planning to give me any shit about it. Cliffs: Physicly abused by father when growing up, fear of becoming what I hated, My father was allways a drunk, or atleast for aslong as I remember. We never liked eachother much, or my brother and myself either. Them two got along most of the time for some reason, he was his favorite I guess. My brother would never stand up for me when I needed him. Father would sometimes start to blame me for the death of my mother when he was drinking, I hated him for this. Made me feel guilty like shit for something I couldn't remember or comprehend and I believed him more each time he said it was my fault. Felt like something worthless, something nobody wanted to have anything to do with, something that should not have been born, I would cry myself to sleep for many nights. Life was quite miserable during that time and I never felt more lonely. My mother died in childbirth when she was having me. My family got along sometimes when we would act like nothing was wrong or was just tired of fighting, most often we would stay out of eachothers way. He would have a tendancy to get violent when he was drinking and I remember I used to be really frightened of him then. I was scared shitless of him regardless but it was worse when he started drinking and his colleges or friends wasn't there, I'd just leave then and go somewhere else if I could or lock myself in my room for a good while. He would often hurt me quite bad, strip me of whatever self respect I had left. I was mostly only home to eat and sleep. Other then that if I could be somewhere else I would leave in a heartbeat. I would grow more and more opposeful of him. Even when he said something that made perfect sense, I'd do the opposite out of pure spite. At times I'd just try to piss him off intentionally, and I always got a satisfying smile when I did it, it just gave me a good feeling and was worth the beating I would recieve for it. I'm sure I made things much more worse for me then they had to be. When he told me to go buy some food for him (I allways was made to do the shopping), sometimes I'd go and buy something completly else, or sometimes I'd even give the money to some musicians on the street nearby. I wanted him to know that I made a promise to myself, I was never going to roll over for him and step in line again no matter how much he would yell at or hurt me, that sort of dicipline just wouldn't have any effect on me any longer. He made me into a cold hearted bitch I've been struggling to grow out of since. When I look at it now, it was weird. I was living two separate lives that had no connection with eachother. One of my personality was when I was home, in school, or anywhere I felt like I had to have my guard up. I didn't give a shit about anything, was cold, a bitch, didn't trust anyone, was self destructive and felt like everyone was against me. The other was when I was with people I cared about, I would be happy, I could make a joke, be sociable, talk about boys or whatever like nothing else was wrong, be normal basicly. I could have told people, but I had this idea that people didn't care or I deserved it somehow. My friend found out after some years when she became suspicious but when she did I made her promise never to tell anyone else, I didn't want to live in some messed up foster home. I was going to finish school and get the hell out. There wore some people that cared about me and that was enough fuel for me to go on. The few friends I had at the time wore never allowed by me to come to my home. The few times they showed up at my door uninvited, I would grab them by the arm and walk away from the house. I allways answered the door when I was there, afraid it might be one of my friends and my father would answer it. Often I showed up at school with bruises and marks my father gave me, but as I often got into fights in school anyway people didn't find it too strange and if they did ask I would tell them to fuck off or just ignore them. When I look back at it, I don't believe the teachers really knew what was going on, maybe they did but didn't care. Most of them didn't like me or get me anyway. Allways looked to blame me for something, and I refused to make excuses. Many of my classmates would often do something wrong and make others think I did it. The teacher would then ask me if it was me, I would never answer him and just walked out when he told me to. He had already made up his mind before he asked me and I hated excuses. Think I got some weird pleasure from being hated by him. Myself I was allways different from the others, I didn't hang in their groups and mostly kept to myself minding my own business or with my few friends. It was rare that I would speak up in class, was a quiet sort. Alot of people in school disliked me. They would often gang up on me when I provoked them or they me. I gave as good as I got, but they would rarely go against me by themselves, verbally or physicly. I was just as strong as most boys, taller then most and I refused to stop untill they gave up or one of us was lying on the ground, just refused to ever give up or surrender to them. Sometimes they would kick my ass and other times I would kick theirs. This didn't bother me at all, wether they were girls or boys ment nothing to me. What they knew got to me was when they embarrassed me in some way, or spread rumours about me that I didn't want people to know. That was the only shit that made me feel weak, fragile and vulnerable. And they knew it. It's what they did to me most often. Alot of good and bad stuff has happened since. I did come to a point where I got sick of fighting all the time and allways being angry at something or someone, wanted some stability in life, like more friends and less enemies. I still struggle with my aggression but I learned to surpress it when I feel it growing, or redirect it somewhere else and I'm alot more calm and happy with myself then I used to be. Working out and practising different fighting arts helps me focus my thoughts. Going loose on a punching bag helps me release the anger and frustation I've built up in me instead of letting it out on others. I really don't want to turn out like the piece of shit my father was, I wanted to be someone better and do some good for a change. Love the feeling of waking up with a smile on your face, though I feel many of my wounds will never heal, it makes me forget and think it's all really ok. It took me along time, but I stopped hating my father and brother. Hating them only made things worse and was turning me into him. I don't like them, and never want to see them again. But I don't hate them anymore and I actually forgive them.