Hey journal, it has been awhile... I let out a lot of different feelings and perspectives I've noticed with myself and my past. One of the things I love and hate, is seeing old friends doing well and poorly.

*****Age 6

I have had a lot of different types of friends growing up, mainly people that could make me feel worthy, that manipulated me. Of course I knew it was happening, but didn't care until I met somebody completely scum. This jerk was always asking for things that he will "pay back", then moves away to a different school. Of course I somehow followed this guy into each class for three years, moving many many times in those three years. I lent this guy my skateboard, never saw it again. Lent him my soccer ball, baseball, and knee pad protectors.

*****Age 9

I finally work up the courage to follow this guy to his home with a wooden bat while on rollerblades, demanded my stuff back even though I outgrew everything by this time. The point was, he never brought back, or "payed back" what he took from me. I was taught to share to make friends. I made a real enemy instead with this guy. His house smelled like feces and stale beer. Sure, he may have an alcoholic father as well, but that didn't quell my anger in sympathy.

When I barged into his house looking for my stuff, his father threatened to beat me up

"Get outta here you shit! You think you can come in here and out shit, youuuuu got another thing coming!"

I had so much rage from my father's threats and beatings throughout my young life, I just swung right into his foot then his left bicep to make him fall over, then went to their cats litter box to grab a fistful of gritty turds and smeared over his eyes and into his mouth.

My enemy staring in shock at what I was doing went to grab a kitchen knife to attack his dad. This made me think strongly on either to let him do it, or to stop him from making a terrible choice. I choose the latter. I grabbed one of the dish towels close by and used that as a protective mitten to grip the blade into a different direction and hit his wrist repeatedly until he let go. The kids eyes filled with wild fury, goes for another kitchen knife from the knife block, I run and grab the grubby fridge mat, used it as a barrier and pushed down the angry kid. While I was pinning him down, his angry father recovered in rage, and yelled

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"Get the fuck out of here you worthless piece good for nothing dog shit! Youuuuu think youuuuu can come in here and fight m-"

There is a knife in his leg, while he was yelling at me, he knocked me over from his son, his son thought it was a good time to stab him...

"Youuuu littllleee shit! I'm going to turn you black and blue for good now!"

His son dived for another knife to stab him with, the dad decided he'd but him in a full Nelson while farting. I decide to back out of his house deciding to take my old skateboard back with me.

The dad decides to come chase me now and adamantly declares I give back his skateboard, I keep telling him to fuck off as I went back home. He followed me home, and my dad was home.

There is many cases where I hate my father at a young age, but somehow still made me hate him as he helped me out of this situation.

He took my skateboard and used it as a weapon, to beat the other dad to a pulp. He was taken into questioning for the stab marks, but chimed in to tell the officers that the stab wounds came from his son. My enemy's dad got thrown in jail, my enemy into a foster home. I never heard or somehow followed them ever again.

The odd thing there is that I decided I didn't care anymore that he didn't pay back, I took my payback from him for those three crappy years I knew him. I choose not to say his actual name because he doesn't deserve to be remembered in my journal. Yes he was troubled, I was attracted to trouble, and hated it. I found out I'm not a total psychopath since I tried stopping the guy from stabbing his drunken father to death but failed a little. I tried being nice and caring to this waste of space, and all I got was one poor excuse after another. To treat him with respect cause he gives the older kids beer, and they are his protection. Sure he offered me beer, but my dad already kept a bunch of beer in the house for a long time until this jerk's dad got thrown into jail, and sent to a foster home.

I never thought my dad would quit his drinking for good around that time, but I am happy he finally told me good job on protecting that other dad's life from his kid. I told my dad,

"Even though I don't like you, you are still my dad. That's what mom keeps telling me, and that I should be happy I have one."

After that he took me out to MacDonald's for lunch all week. It was the best week I ever had with my dad.

So yeah, my dad wasn't a complete asshole all the time, he still broke my skateboard in two when he beaten up that other dad. I of course, lost interest in skateboarding. Yet, I found confidence in my dad's strength to "protect" rather then to "torment" for once, and I really liked that rare side of him that pops up once in awhile. Take care journal, until next time.