I was beaten horribly by my mother, and molested by my father. I have never actually said these things out loud to anyone, not even myself when I'm all alone. Just typing this here gives me the shakes. But what the hell, this is the internet. Nothing is true on the internet anyway.

My mother was depressed, and stayed in bed all the time. Our house was like one of those depressing "garbage houses" you see on reality TV like "hoarders". I was too young to know how or why to keep things clean. I had to lie constantly about why my friends could never come over, or why I smelled like piss and shit. Her big thing, too, was responding to anything with violence and anger. I was taught never to express any emotions, or talk too loud, because that would end in a beating. The phrase "I'm going to put your fucking teeth down your throat" was her catchphrase. She sent me to live with her crackhead sister for a time.

I ran fast and far as soon as I hit 18. I haven't seen her in a long, long time, but she will still e-mail once in a while saying she loves me and wants a relationship with her son. I know I shouldn't harbor hate like this in my heart, and I should just move on, just forgive and forget, but even thinking about the concept of mothers makes me furious and sad and scared and full of a blinding rage.

My father has put a loaded gun to my head, and that's not even the worst of it. I don't like to talk about him. He disappeared one summer and I don't know where he has been for the last 15 years, except on one occassion when he turned up at my first house when I left town and got away from my mother. He said hello, and I very calmly explained to him that if I ever saw his face again, I would kill him. He left without a word. I still don't know how he got my address. I hope he's dead. He deserves to be dead. That's an awful thing to say, but it's true. Someone told me he has had a couple of wives and a couple of kids in the last few years. I know what he's doing to them. I wish I knew where he was so I could put a stop to it. I'd fly anywhere in the world to cave in his skull and save someone from the things I've had to live with.

I haven't even ever told my wife about this. I hate carrying this stuff around, but there isn't anything else to do with it. Time doesn't heal all wounds, though. Whoever said that is a liar.