The Great American Bombastic Part 2

Being born into a world where your parents have already given up on the idea of respecting you as their sacred child is a hard world to be born in to. Mom and dad regretted bringing me into existence and this regret lives on to this very day. To them I ruined hopes and dreams by being born and neither one of the sorry fart blossoms ever recovered from the trauma of it. Mom wanted to be the most widely known road whore in a three state region, but I ruined it for her. Dad just wanted to be a drunk asshole and actually he succeeded quite well in such pursuits, I had little effect on him in such matters. I can only praise and thank the Lord in Heaven that they divorced each other very early in my life. My first actual memory is of my father beating the living shit out of my mom in a trailer we lived in. If they would have somehow stayed together, there is no possible way that I could have survived to write these words. I have no doubt in my mind that those sorry assholes would have just taken me out into the woods and left me as an offering to the demons that rule their souls. It is strange grace when a divorce may well have saved the life and soul of a helpless little child, but strange grace is the stuff I've lived off of for more days than I can now remember and I'll take it every time with a big smile on my face. I have absolutely no respect for my parents. I only have respect for the Lord my God for seeing me through their wicked ways. I am destined to be different than they and so I survive to write. I suppose bad mouthing them in this work makes it appear that I follow in their footsteps, but I know that it is what it is and no longer can I sit on my hands and internalize alone what they are responsible for doing to me. I must make it known so that even the tiniest amount of justice can be gleaned from this shitty situation.