My asshole of a father, without my permission, took the pristine, new traffic cone I stole in Sacramento last year, and put it out with his horses. What a fucking loser. I ALWAYS ask to use something if there is a large possibility that it will be destroyed, ESPECIALLY if I were to put someone’s posession outside, exposed to the fucking elements. Sometimes I wonder if he cares about anyone other than himself. I have this weird boil-looking thing on my hand, and the rash thta I’ve had for three weeks has migrated to my stomach. If I have some disease that could have been treated early, I’m going to burn down his “palace”. I would love to see the look on his face seeing the charred remains of his pride and joy. When the cheap bastard finally takes me to the doctor, if I have some life-threatening disease, he’d better kiss his pretty “home” goodbye. I’d even burn down the fences. The garage, sugar in his car’s gas tank, even the barn, effectively killing his pretty little horses. I wish I could make him see that my life is much, much more important than he thinks. If it ends, his life will be flushed down the shithole along with mine. Imagine, being too cheap to take your own son to the doctor. I hope I never become that much of a…monster. Monster. That’s what he is. An egotistical, horrible monster of a person, so consumed with their own wishes and tyrannical wants that they don’t even care about their own son anymore. I wish he was dead.