(This document is censored for those who take offense at cursing)

8/16/99
9:40 PM

	I may forget that moment, but I don't know if I will ever 
forgive them for it.  I try to go to bed in a more peaceful manner 
than the one that had been transpiring all night.  This may have been 
more tranquil, but not more peaceful.
	We are standing in a triangle, dad and mom in between us.  
This is only a fitting conclusion to a mostly miserable first day of 
school.  Dad had gone in another one of his one way shouting matches, 
screaming at me and me trying not to let it get to me.
	In this final stance, dad gives me another talk about how I 
need responsibility and need to start to get my (stuff) together.  
Then mom looks at dad, then at me and says that she doesn't want 
anymore of this fighting.  She said that she wanted to walk out of the 
house and never come back tonight, just like many nights before.  I 
know she can't take it anymore.  But then she said "And it's all 
because of you Chris." with her finger pointed firmly in my direction.  I know I could say nothing, for those words were useless now.  So I went to bed.
	I finally found it.  I finally found hate.  For years, I've 
gotten glimpses of it, al of them in this household.  Only now do I 
feel it.  It's not unbridled hate, for then I would be two parents 
short of a family.  But it is hate and it is not weak either.  
	It all started when mom peeked into my room and saw lots of 
clutter and forms.  She told me to bring them out.  Then dad exploded 
wondering why I had bright out these forms so late.  After quite a bit 
of argument, mom (as usual) wondered how long I had been on the phone 
today, and being in no mood to lie I told them an hour and a half.  
Then dad blew up again, and continued to blow up at every little 
discrepancy I had.
	They hated my handwriting too.  Dad mentioned "remedial writing 
school" to cure it.  All of this time during his shouting, I had kept 
his gaze and answered his questions with a quivery voice.  I was able 
to keep with it until my eyes started watering, then I couldn't meet 
his gaze for I didn't want him to see me emotional.  That would make 
matters worse.
	Why do I hate my parents?  They do not love me, or in my dad's 
case respect me unless I'm doing something that pleases them.  They 
already say that I have screwed up the year and no college would want 
me.  They forgot the fact that I haven't even been assigned anything 
yet.
	Oh do I hope mom and dad see this, so they can see what they've 
done to me (and my handwriting, since it's important to them).  The 
next time they tell me that they love me, they should think about 
what they are saying.  For love so conditional is not love at all.