Let me start by saying that I am exactly like my father and I hate it. I hate it down to my very core. No matter what I do it seems that I can never escape that fact....and it kills me inside a little bit more every day.
Sometimes, more times than I care to admit, I honestly feel like my family would be better off if I wasn't around. I know my kids would sure benefit from not having me in the house. I don't want to screw up their lives any more than I'm sure I already have. However, every day seems to bring with it a new chance to ensure that they will turn out as fucked up as I am. And I hate myself for it.
I hate that I yell. My wife hates it and I know my kids hate it. My father always yelled when I was growing up and I hated it and I hated him for it. For some reason, I don't seem to be able to stop the yelling. Yet, every time I yell I know I die a little more inside. Every time I yell I wish I could just put a knife through my heart to spare everyone from me. Every time I yell I feel worse than before I did the time before.
It can be a little thing that does it or a big thing but the yelling is there. It's almost like a dark cloud hanging over my head. No matter what I do or where I go in life it's always there. I can never seem to shake it. It's the worst part of me and what feels like the most inescapable part of me. There is only pain and suffering with it. There is no light or relief from it's darkness. I feel it even now as I type these words. And I can't escape. I can only hope that the storm raging in the darkness waits to rear its ugly head again.
I hate myself today.
