@driftwood: Hey. Long time, no see. Hopefully you’ve been putting bread on the table, though. Also, just a disclaimer, it’s 7am, and I’m on my bathroom floor, sick (my friend with a “slightly scratchy throat” came over), typing this up on my old, cracked phone. So, excuse any errors.

When I said lied to, it really spans from my mother, to everyone else. I’m sure you know how everyone makes out absent father figures to be terrible people.

I’ve visited him twice, since then. He’ll message me nearly every night at roughly 10pm, til when I go to sleep. With further evaluation, I really don’t want to be around him. He’s an awful pity party, and nothing is ever his fault. He even went out of his way to blame him leaving on my mother, saying it was her idea to move states, and things got wonky from there. He says that he only stayed here so long cause he couldn’t leave without finding me, and hopefully taking me with him to somewhere east. I am, of course, a doormat, but I have my limits.

Also, this entire thing feels like it’s out of pity. He treats me like a cancer patient, or an intimidating date (gross, I know), more than anything. To him, I’m this wilting flower to be kept alive, and I obviously suddenly need his help, after 16 years.

Whenever I’m with him, my anxiety goes haywire. I’m usually lost in derealization until I can leave. I just don’t feel comfortable around him, because he’s so uncomfortable. Last time, I told him I don’t eat in the afternoon, and then he insisted I eat repeatedly the entire drive home. (Yes, I actually let him drive me home. He insisted, and prolly wouldn’t wait long enough for my mother to pick me up. Also, he chugged an entire glass of beer before this, so I knew I was in safe hands.)

I don’t know. He’s nice, but it’s a uncomfortably fake “how can I win you over?” nice. He bought me an entire outfit to wear to the last time we hung out. I hate when people buy me things, I’m sure we’ve been over this. He’s especially not the richest person in the world (at all, was homeless some few times) .

As for the discipline thing, I really haven’t been able to start. This father stuff is only more baggage, which is making me just want to hide under my covers for forever. Though, I did log into school, at one point. Only to really talk to my teacher about our common tastes in music, though. I know, I need to be the one to make the first step towards treating myself better, but it’s so hard. Don’t think I’m not blaming anyone but myself.

And counseling appointments haven’t been about anything but my relationship with my father. And my inability to stand up for myself, for the fear of it backfiring. She even asked me last time how exactly do I stay sane with everything going on. I couldn’t form a response.

Alright, my throat’s on fire, and my legs are pressing into this plasticy hardwood floor quite hard. Also, would it be more convenient to email you? I dunno. Happy Easter, if you poof for another month. Kidding, of course.

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Also, I wanted to treat my scratchy throat friend to a dinner at a mutual favorite restaurant of ours, and then mother brought her waste of space along. He demanded we get two seperate tables, and the restaurant was packed. It made me feel awful, and guilty of not being able to cooperate with someone I live with. He would purposely lag behind me when walking to/fro the car, as if I was an infectious plague. Went out of his way to make indirect jokes about me. While in the car, he said the dogs need to get a job in a year, in this sarcastic tone, which I knew was aimed at me. It killed my appetite at the restaurant. I ended up dry heaving for 30 minutes the next day.