You know, all I asked you, My Fucking Father, was to repeat yourself because you were muttering again. And I walked into yet another one of your fucking traps when you felt you had to shout, in that whiny goddamn tone of voice, "You know how to make your own schedule!" Man, I was just fucking asking, asshole. And I know that asking, just asking, you to repeat it makes you suspicious that I won't "make my own schedule." I saw that stupid fucking look on your ass face when I came back home from the gym. You're just waiting till tomorrow morning, aren't you? Well, if I'm not going to wake up at a time you think deem reasonable or "responsible," then you're just going to have to do it for me, aren't ya?
I'm tired of being scared when you wake me up. I just have to remember that you hate it and that you can't fucking help yourself. Bring it, he-bitch.
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