Started thinking about my dad again and the anger is coming back. I thought while my head was clear I should start thinking about the shit that happened and try to come to terms with it, try to heal because as much as this anger is easier than dealing with the source, I don't want it. It makes me lose control and what little grasp on reality I have left.
Everything about my life that lead me to here was created by him. He was like... Some kind of fucked up ringleader, and everyone he interacted with was just, one of his stupid fucking clowns, or performance animal or fucking something. No one was human to him. No one was his equal. Everyone was just a pawn, or an animal. Especially me, his stupid, naive son, the coward, the fuck up of the family who was attracted to Men of all fucking things, which, in his eyes was somehow my greatest sin. I was his biggest fucking failure and he made sure I knew that. He orchestrated my entire shitty life just to rub that bullshit in my face. Down to what I did, who I saw, my friends and the fucking bastard I fell in love with. Just to make sure I knew that in his eyes I was less than a fucking Rat, that no one could love or care about something so fucking useless. That the people who Did get close to me were only there because they had some kind of agenda, or they were Told To, and that that's just how my life is and always will be. I don't even have anything that proves him wrong.
So, how's it feel Daddy Dearest? How's it feel knowing that I destroyed everything you set out to make. Including you. I destroyed your reputation, I destroyed the organisation, I destroyed The Garden, I destroyed Felix, I destroyed Everything. Everything you set out to do was ruined by My hand. I destroyed myself too, but I don't fucking care. It was worth it. If I had to become a monster to destroy you then so be it. In the end, I had nothing to fucking lose. Grandma was dead already, i don't even know if she actually loved me or if she just saw me as a tool to use for your downfall, but whatever the case she tried to help but she died for it. I don't think she died naturally. I'm not stupid. I know it was you. You, just, taking everything I had left that kept me a good person, taking the one person who Tried.
But you know what I hate most about all this? Is that I bet you feel some kind of sick satisfaction at what I became. Because you fucking succeeded. I'm not little innocent baby Ali anymore. I have nothing and I have no one, I don't even have myself which is exactly what you wanted. It makes me sick to think that I spent my entire life before that trying so, So hard not to give in, not to become consumed by this, but here we are and here I am.
I am not Alistair anymore. I'm the fucking Rat King and you were right. You were always fucking right.
Alistair Jacobi (ninestonesfictive)
