.i lose myself in all these fights, i lose my sense of wrong and right.

What happened to that person who would give up everything for me? Who would protect me from the monsters under my bed? When I was five, we used to watch Tales From The Crypt together and at 11.30, after it had finished, you would tuck me in. It was a ritual for me to get scared and for you to check under my bed and in my closet for monsters and gargoyles and all the stuff I deemed scary and upsetting. You used to be able to carry me back then. Now, I'm just seven inches shorter than you. Give it a few more years and we'll be the same height. I'll be able to look you in the eyes and tell you what you've done. How you've hurt me and fucked up my life. How scarred I am by your actions.
I always wanted to make you proud of me. I wanted you to be able to introduce me with that proud glint in your eye. Look where that got us. You can't stand my hair; according to you, it's too messy. You can't stand my earrings; there are too many for your liking. You can't stand my music; it's too loud. And I'm not going to change for you. You can shout and rant and rave like the psycho that you are. You can punish me. You can do whatever you want. I won't change. For the first time in a long time, I'm happy with who I am. I'm happy with my hair and my earrings and my music and everything else. I'm happy coming home at two in the mornings, laughing my ass off with Mercedes and Ashley. I've given up on trying to make you proud. I don't need you to be proud of me, because even if you're not proud of me, I'm proud of me.
The gap between us came to a head the other night. The night involving you storming out and the soccer trophy I won in standard six, now broken. I hate the thing anyway. I don't want to look at it anymore and now I don't have to. It's gone. The funny thing is, I never was like you. I just tried to be. To make you proud. We're so different. I've become domesticated, you could almost call it tamed, since I've started spending time with the ScaryBeautiful. MY ScaryBeautiful. It thrills me to say that. And you. You'll never see how your actions have affected me. I won't let you see. I'm taking Daphne's advice on this. I'll never, ever let you in. Not as long as I live. You'll never get to see my kids. Not Laith or Shane or Skylar. They don't need to know that they're related to someone like you.
I don't knwo when things changed between us. Was it after I found out, or way before that? Maybe it was because I stopped playing sports, stopped watching Manchester United games with you late at night. I spent more time at the gym, keeping fit that way. You'd come in late, literally throw money at me and go out again. Then there was the time when I was much younger. You couldn't go a day without fighting with *her*. I spent the nights huddled under my blankets with someone who'd hold me together - every single night, staying up late to tell me that it'd all be okay. It wasn't any of that someone's business, but he cared about me. He still does, and I love him for it. He's not like you at all and thank God for that.
What you did, your addiction, your betrayal, it's driving me. It keeps me up late at night, thinking. It makes me toss and turn and burn, hating you and what you're doing. But you're getting sloppy. And when you go down, I'll be there. I'll make something out of myself and I'm well on the way to doing it. I'm not just some unknown. You're going to hear my voice till you're fucking sick of it. And when you get sick of it, it'll still be there. You won't have a choice. You're just a challenge I have to overcome. And I'll overcome it. I have my ScaryBeautiful, to hold me together when I'm about to fall apart. Which is more than you EVER did for me.
It's different. I'm different from you and for that, I'm thankful. I'm made of better things and I'll prove whatever you said, in front of Carmen and Mercedes and Rowan, I'll prove you so fucking wrong. If I have half a chance I'll grab it. And when I make it, it'll be no thanks to you. No thanks to you AT ALL.