how oddFollow

I dont think the reasons could ever be forgotten, at least in my own situation. As I said, I wont get into my life, but there are some things in life that can never be forgiven or forgotten. It could be different things for each person, but for me, the lines were crossed multiple times and yes, I'm one to hold on to grudges for unforgivable things. And I am pretty sure I am not alone in that regard, when it comes to holding onto a hatred for specified and justified reasons.

the bit[b][/b]ch refused to buy me a pony

Even worse the cnut gave DSD a Jem doll instead !!!!

Edit - and a discount "manufacturer defect" my littlest pony doll with three legs and the melted face. DsD's step mother is a monster

Edited, Tue Sep 13 07:17:31 2005 by bhodisattva

My uncle whom my father treated like a brother. When my father was diagnosed with terminal cancer the bastar* never came to visit him once or even show up to the funeral. This is one instance out of many others. There long history that lead up to this.

Just suffice it to say, if we were flood victims of New Orleans and he was on the street thirsty and needed water and I had some, I wouldn't give him any!

Like I said there is a whole history behind this that lead up to this point. It wasn't because he wanted to see someone die, he watched his father die while he was wringing his hands and couldn't wait to get his hands on his money and his land. There is alot of water under the bridge where this man is concerned.

Trust me, it had nothing to do with his feelings other than a feeling of greed.

Jophiel beat me to it. Damn you Jophiel! I shall now be forced to loathe you publicly!

I don't hate anybody. Hatred seems like a choice to me. The only times, in my experience, that it hasn't seemed like a choice was when I was too stubborn to see that I was the one making the choice to hate. However, like many of us, I grew up with several sh[/i]tty father figures and, although I'm sure I could justify hatred, the conclusion that I've come up with is that there are a lot of sick people in this world and i feel sorry for anybody who is fuc[i]ked up in the head to the point that they can't even see how fuc[/i]ked up they really are. I'm fuc[i]ked up. As long as I know that, I can keep trying to find things I need to fix.

My Dad.

Fuc[/i]king Cu[i]nt.


Edited, Wed Sep 14 05:50:52 2005 by TheDave

Hate.
What always amazed me about it was that it was such a small word for a thing that can completely take over your life.
I think the first person I ever associated the concept of hate with is my father. Though in later years I have come to understand his situation a bit more, and can empathize with his decision to give us over to the state, I can never, ever forgive him for leaving us there for all those years.
Hate became my driving engine, the fabric that held me together from day to day. I thought that I would never be able to hate anyone more than I hated that man. Didn't imagine it was possible.
Then, I met Father Valentine Peter, who ran the group home I was assigned to when I was 15.
Living there, I learned a more complete and absolute understanding of just exactly what it is to live in hate. It has taken me nearly 15 years to let go of everything that happened to me there, and even now, I still burn a little to remember.
hate.
There isn't much I know more about.