Forgive my dad

OK. I’m alright. Wrote a huge long letter to Dad. Not that I’m sending it. I cried, but strangely I feel better for it. I think if I organise all the shit thats in my head on paper, I’ll have a better grip on it. And once it’s all out of my system, then maybe I’ll feel un-petty enough to forgive. Hoping so.

I should. And I want to. But it’s just hard. I mean, I know there’s nothing I can do now: no way to change the past.
Half of me hates him for not being the dad I know he could have been. Part of me pities him and what he’s become. I mean, come on; he’s 36 and perfectly happy to sit in his chair and pour that shit down his neck and walk everywhere with a fucking STICK rather than admit he has a problem. Balance problems my arse.
See? I hate what this does to me. I don’t want him to affect me anymore. So I need to forgive and move on. ‘How’ is the question.