Before I get started I would like to tell anyone who reads this, thanks for reading and listening to my story, no one else ever wants to listen.

Well, I'm an only child and 13 years old with a very slowly damaged background. I was, well forced to grow up at a young age. My father is the main reason for my living hell. My poor mother was married to that bastard for 18 years. He is a very controling man, he wants everythinghisway. The stories I've heard from my young years, are so odd…It really blows my mind that this stuff every happened. One story that has stayed in my mind so well is; when I was only about three, I tried to count the stairs. Yet I would keep messing up or screw up my count. I mean I couldn't count high enough. My mother said that he got pissed I couldn't do it and started to yell. When he yells, its horrible. He did this for over an hour. I was in tears the whole time.

My parents have beendivorcedfor about three years now. At the time my mother gave himevery singleweekend as the time he got to see me. My mother at the time was in a bad position money wise and my father would of fought her incourtfor more time, so she knew he would go for that, keeping her from a long and expensive fight. My father is a government worker and makes, well 6 figures, but acts as though he makes a bad living and hoards his money. My mother on the other hand is in a really position, she was laided off because they cut her area of work. She was for a while, makingnothing. We barley had money for gas, luckily we've been living at my grandmother's house, so we help with bills and stuff. So we had a roff over our head and food on the table.

One thing that makes it hard to explain my pain is that my dad is good about hurting me badly, but in ways that are hard to detect. He has never hurt me physically, but mentally, oh yes very much. I don't believe that now he would ever need to. The mental pain has been effecting me physically anyways, my body drags everyday of this horrid life.

To gave you a bit of background on what makes this metal abuse so horrible, I'll attempt to explain as well as I can. For one my father is good at beatimng you dwon with words and then denying it anytime. He is sure that he is right all the time. A few times when I would go to my bedroom to go to bed, and I would of said something that made him mad, me unknowing. He would come over and sit on my bed and just beat me down with every little bit of information. Telling me how bad of a person I am, telling me why I have no friends, how its all MY fault I'm so alone. Those few times were so horrible, I was in tears within a few small words. His actions and words always hit me like a brick, tearing my heart a bit more each time. I swear now that its holding its shattered peices together by lone strings.

Truthfully one thing I truly crave so much, is well a father's love. I want it so bad. Just seeing others with their dad's ahving fun, getting a kiss on the cheek, hugging them, being with them. It kills me inside, but I feel so happy for them. They will never know just how lucky they are. My father has damaged me so badly that any affection from him burns my skin, mean absolutly nothing to me. His "loving" words, such as I love you are so hollow. Think about it like, when someone says I love you to a celeb, it doesn't mean anything. Sometimes I even get the feeling of being touched by a stranger that you aren't comfortable around. It bothers me to no end.

To be honest I believe that on average every week I cry about four, five times thinking about anything really. What really gets me is,love. Love is such a simple topic, when talked about, but when you really get down to it, its something we all crave. Some a bit, but some that's what they need. Well I'm pretty such, thats what I need. At least one night a week I just lie there thinking about what it would be like to have the love I need so depreately. Those are the night that I just sob, for an hour or more. There was one person who filled that love need.

My grandfather was the best man alive. He rasied me basically, with my grandmother on my mother's side. My grandfather was my everything, I loved him more than anyone on the planet. Hewasmy parents most of the time. They would almost never be home so I was at their house. Well, three years ago when we moved in he was always there for me to be with. Always there, or so I thought. The thought of him dying anytime never crossed my mind. All the time he would go into the hospital for a little, but come out alright. So when he went into the hospital I didn't really thinktoomuch about it. It just felt like any other time, he would be out soon or later and all would be good. Well days went on and then they started on about that they were going to stop the life line thing that I hadn't really known about. Well that day, December 21st, 2010, the best man on earth died Jack E. Dawson. You know what made it so horrible and hard on me, was well my mother, grandmother, and uncle decided it would be best I didn't go see him. Then ya know what, they pull the plug like a day or so later. You see what I'm getting at?

I never said goodbye.

Nor did even really spend any time with him in the time before, because it was the thought that he would be there forever. I never got to tell him how much I loved him, how much he had helped me over the years. Just to tell him that I loved him and thank you.

There is so much more I could get into but really this is the basic.