A salty hasty exit.

I've always longed for that father figure you see on TV, the one who gets ignored but actually really cares for his children. I've always wanted one of those, because .. I've never had one. I don't even know what's making me vent something so intimate to my blog. I hate my father. All in bold there, but it's true. Most of the time I do. He is a jerk. And no, he didn't cut off my allowance or ground me or some stupid shit like that .. but the fact that he is so crude and mean to my mother, and even disrespectful to me, makes me question his capabilities of being a good father. A good father does not favor children, he loves them all equally. My dad loves Francis. A good father should always support you, or at least make an effort. Mine, does not .. not even financially. He was never even there for me when I was younger, it was just me and my mother. He's not even a man, a pitiful excuse for one. He cheats. He hurts. He smokes. He's greedy. He gambles. He's a horrible role model. He's my dad. And I'm glad I'm nothing like him. So today, when I told him that he was a pitiful excuse for a father because he favored one child and never even helped my mother ... when he told me I was a "cow" who was turning exactly for my mother, I took that as a compliment. Because my mom is the best person ever. She struggled and worked to be who she is today and survive in this country. And if it wasn't for her, my father wouldn't even be here. He'd be another brown-skinned filipino working the fields. And as much as he hates to admit, but it's true. Needless to say, after all of that screaming and a defensive statement from his new girlfriend (who happens to be his dead wife's cousin) I needed to make a hasty exit. No way in fucking hell am I going back, and if I do, it'll be solely for the purpose of visiting Francis.