So I’ve been called a sadist.
But I’d like to describe it more as
I like to believe I have the upper hand.
But what this person doesn’t know
Is this is my wall talking.
He doesn’t know I’m full of shit
He doesn’t see me crumble
Or cry with joy from being loved for three years by the most forgiving man I’ve ever met.
He doesn’t know me.
He tried to pull that perceptive card,
But I’ve met his like before.
Confident on the outside
Insecure on the inside.
Like all of us.
So don’t tell me, you can read me.
Because I know you’re no fly on the wall.
You’re just like every other psychology cock sucker thinking you’re the next Freud.
So bye boy.
I sit here with my flat white thinking of last night.
I almost cried listening to Jocko Willink’s motivational speech on discipline equals freedom.
He asked questions like,
You want free time? That takes time discipline. You want more saved in the bank? That takes financial discipline.
And the whole time he was saying this I kept thinking of my dad and how he taught me the same thing. He didn’t word it that way, but he did teach me discipline at a very young age. And I feel like I get it now. He wasn’t being a hard ass just because he likes power. He was being a hard ass because he wanted me to be free when I was older.
I always thought I wasn’t enough for him because he would criticize everything I did, but really he just didn’t want my expectations to be too low. Because low expectations don’t offer freedom.
And then I thought about how forgiving my dad is. And how even after I called the cops on him this year, he still is seeking a relationship with me.
That’s more than some daughters get.
Though he never says, sorry.
I know he is
Because he wouldn’t keep coming back to me if he wasn’t.