You know, I'm not a violent person. Sure I play fight a bit with Chris, I'll punch my brothers in the arm sometimes, but very rearely do I ever sincerely want to beat the fuck out of somebody. Sure I get annoyed with people sometimes. How can I not? People are stupid. However, I can think of only one person with whom I actually get angry. And I mean really angry. Angry enough that my inhibitions fly out the fucking window and I want to kick holes in the wall, punch something until my knuckles bleed, or throw things around the house. I seriously consider vandalizing my own home even though I know I will get caught and get into a shitload of trouble. But when I'm that mad I just don't care about consequences. It's like being drunk, only without the happy feelings and all of the complete loss of common sense.
So...three guesses who this lucky person is.
That's right: it's Doug. My shit-licker of a stepfather. He personifies everything about humans that I hate. He's hypocritcal, stupid, mean, bitter, materialistic, selfish, and immature (and not in a fun way). He's basically just a whiny bitch who always has to have things his way or else he becomes spiteful and sometimes even downright cruel. I wish he would just hit me so I could have him arrested. Honestly.
The worst part is that everybody loves him. My ex-boyfriend thought he was cool. The rest of my family doesn't believe he could be anything other than a teddy bear, and they scoff if my brothers and I try to tell them differently. Of course this is just the rambling of a few emotional teenagers who were deeply upset by their parents' divorce or some other bullshit.
To be honest, before the split, I wanted them to get divorced. I hated them fighting, I hated my dad then and I was glad when he left. But Doug is a major step down. It's hard to pinpoint exactly what he does that I hate. Every time I think of an example it sounds so small. But it mattered at the time.
Like how he took my laundry out of the machine so he could put his in. I went to put my clothes in the dryer and found them still covered in detergent and only a few articles were slightly damp. He must have taken them out seconds after I went upstairs. I had put such petty things past him, I guess. I never even thought that he would do that. And I've spent the last eight years learning what an asshole he is. I really should stop giving him the benefit of the doubt. Really. I'm too nice.
I have problems holding a grudge. Even against Doug I forget his trangressions soon after he commits them. That's probably why it's so hard for me to explain why he's such a dick. But I guess a tiny part of my rage has remained and has been building on itself for eight years now. Now every single thing makes my skin crawl and my muscles clench. Every time he stomps across the floor, every time he clears his throat, every time he shouts into the phone, yells, or even speaks, I hate him a little bit more.
It's times like these that I wish I had a punching bag. Anyone I know outside my family would probably be surprised to see me in such a state. I'm usually cheerful, easy-going, even shy. I'm accepting and non-confrontational. I don't mean to make myself out to be some kind of saint, I just mean that I'm not violent and to have one person bring out so much anger in me is irritating to me and probably would be very shocking to anyone else. I wonder, if I told Chris how mad I got about my stepfather, if he would really believe me. Probably not. Not me, kitten; I'm harmless.
I wonder if my family would believe the way I am with my friends, at work or even just with my brothers. I'm a happy person when I'm not at home. Come on summer! Get here so I can move out! Fill up my bank account with money because I'm on my way to murder at this rate!