𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝐹𝒾𝓋𝑒

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Song: Cut by Plumb

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Maxwell Augustus

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Maxwell Augustus


Every little boy needs a father.

A father that plays ball with him in the park, or teaches him all of the proper ways to care for his future partner.
A father to teach that little boy how to be a father himself.

How to love and care for those around him.

A father to buy his first remote controlled truck, or teach him how to drive when he's fifteen.

A father who shows him how to fill out his resume and how to file taxes.

Although that little boy may outgrow his fathers lap, he will always own the biggest part of his fathers heart.

Based on our connection with our parents, we all create expectations about how other people will treat us. After all, the way you talk to your children quickly becomes their inner voice.

Kids have a hole in their soul in the shape of the person who was supposed to be their dad, and if that man is unwilling or incapable of filling that hole, it will leave a wound that is not easily healed.

In 'troubled' families abuse and neglect seem to be permitted and talking about it is what is actually forbidden.

If one day my father woke up and truly realized what he was doing was beyond wrong I would walk away.

After all, how do you even think about forgiving the person who was supposed to protect you from life's dangers — instead he became the one you needed protecting from.

"Look who finally turned up. I knew it was a matter of time before that little bitch contacted you." My supposed brother states as I entered the house causing my fathers head to quickly jerk in my direction, his tone remains chilling.

My first memory was actually Shane — my brother — holding me close to his chest as my father stumbled around intoxicated, that was the first time I remember him comforting me.

I think I was around three or four at the time, it never lasted long though because that may be the first time I remember him comforting me like a big brother would.... It was also the last time I could remember him comforting me.

"About time." My dad, although he doesn't deserve that title, states while shakily standing, I could smell the alcohol from the doorway.

The more intoxicated, the more it hurts.

The more I resist, the longer it lasts.

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