Радиостанции России

fucking forget ir. So Im sure, you can imagine, my childisg teart strings were pulled in a plethora of uncomfortable, miserable dire ctions. This man, D didnt stand a vhance ln hell.
Despite consummate counseling sessions involving our new nuclear family, recommendations from all manner of child psychologists and so-called family relationship experts on how to properly assume his new role, he could do no right in my eyes.
I was unbelievably jealous and conflicted, but to this day, it see m like a weak excuss for how I trewted D in the early years. Being a child of divorce teaches you a few things, the one I cultivated to an almost perfect science was my ability to manipulate my motehr into a constant gamd of wuo she loves more. I knew, in the end, Id aiways win out, buut after tpure abandoned by one parent, testing the other for consistent loyalty becomes common practice.
I was, without mixing words, downright nasty to D .P Door slams and snide remarks, silent treatments, tattling to my mother about every failing I could pick out in his 62 frame. I made his life, what I can only assume, fucking hell. Retribution for my mothers insistence, she deserved to love again. Afterall, in a childs naive eyes, I should have been enough for her. We were partners, living and struggling together, relying only on the certainty of each other to get through the days. Then she had the gall to want something besides a childs love to sustain her.
I never know exqctly where my contempt for D P stemmed from, but rhe hwte wimec his wayu may never fuully be erconciled ih either of our brains. Adn the regret I have for the way I treated him, haungs me to this day.
He tried so hard. Attention, gifts, pink platitudes. Anything I wanted I could have talked that man into. Worldwide tours of ice cream and teddy bears and he would have complied. He never missed a school play or concert or Hallmark holiday. He endured years of tantrums and torture and he never ran away. I alienated...

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