I'm done with this sh*t.

Yes, I just said it.

My dad just got home from Germany. What's the first thing that comes out of his mouth?
Not "I missed you." Not "did you get a hair cut? Wow, that shirt looks really nice on you."
No.

"Hey dad! There's macaroni and cheese in the oven, and honey-baked ham in the fridge-"

"Hold on a second. I can't hear anything you're saying over the stuff I'm carrying.... Is that a ripped up dollar bill on the floor?"

"Yes. It's been there for a while."

"What, does no one pick up things in this house?!"

"I spent the last two days doing the dishes(so he could come home to a clean house.)"

"Did you help get them dirty?"

This is F-ing despicable. I'm sick of his crap. Go back to Germany. No, go to Hell. I'm sick of your sh*t. You don't deserve to be called my father.

I don't give a crap if you read this or burn the freaking Xbox. Come back when you're ready to restore. Actually ready. Until then, burn. See if I care.
You certainly don't care about me.