i grew up in an abusive home. rich but abusive. my father beat us with a belt when we pissed him off which was frequent and most often for no good reason that i can remember. my mother was a real piece of work. she never had much to say unless we pissed her off, and then it was to remind us that we were lazy or fat or unmotivated, or, my personal favorite, stupid. stupid cow. surprised they didnt put it on the birth certificate. so i was sexually abused for about three years and have spent the last however many years since then suicical, self-destructive, miserable, occasionally drug addicted or drunk, unmotivated. . .it goes on and on. today the evil one (aka mother) actually threatened to sue me if i didnt bring my children to visit her and dear old dad. hello? have i lost my hearing or did you say i should bring my children to hell house? that was topped by my bastard of a brother telling me i shouldve been able to move past my past. of course. i should be normal happy and well-adjusted. why wouldn't i be? the first seventeen years of my life werent disgusting perverted twisted and frightening. they were full of puppy dogs and birthday cakes and mary poppins. the vein in my forehead is pulsing and about ready to pop and right now i would like nothing more than to carve myself like a halloween pumpkin. haven't cut in six months but at the moment it sure seems better than a warm bath or a hot cup of tea.