#331645 - And the barbell had a small stand that supported the weighted ends so it wouldn’t roll. “I want you to stop being so difficult,” my mom screamed at me as she held my face so fiercely in her hand that I could feel my teeth cutting into the sides of my mouth, “YOU are the problem here! YOU make it so that every moment that could even possibly be pleasant ends up in nothing but shouting, because you are lazy, stupid, and ungrateful! I want you to stop trying to tear this family apart! Stop antagonizing your father! Just do as you’re told! You’re making him this way! You’re trying to make him fall apart!” With that, my mom pushed my head back into the wall; I couldn’t tell what hurt worse, the crack of my head against the bricks, or the amount of hate she seemed to feel toward me. Sometimes it was a mark made by his own glass or beer can, and I think those times he was just looking for an excuse.

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