Oftentimes, although it's usually about something that affects him, I think about My Father. And most of the time it's about how he's going to react, or rather how pissed and/or whiny he's going to be. I frequently get internally worked up about what I imagine he would do or say, so much so I act out. That's usually why I get into these spells about My Fucking Father when I'm alone in the bathroom or my bedroom.

I thought about him a lot when taking a shower last night, which is the only reason (besides residual resentment stemming from 34 years of being a bad father) I did what I did, and maybe why he'll pay me back for it later on.

Tonight he wanted me to help him fill out some papers for his business. I thought I was done and retreated into my room for some TV and wasting my life away. About 10 minutes later I hear footsteps, each getting louder. I was getting up when I heard My Father ask for me from the other side of the door.

I leap up. The only light emanating from my room was the TV screen, and Father didn't bother to turn on the hallway lights, so I turned it on to see what exactly he was holding in his hands. (It was the same papers I helped him fill out.) And then I remember him cleaning my fucking room and telling me to clean said fucking room. So to make sure his eyes weren't prying, I stepped through the threshold, shut the door and waved my hands to the dining room area, where we would have more room to talk ... away from my bedroom. And he hesitated and flinched the door's way. I knew in his mind he was saying, "Why in the fuck did you close that door? How dare you, motherfucker?!"

He didn't say anything immediately after that; he just said something about calling the company and clearing up what exactly the forms are for. Yet I have to await retaliation.