About Me

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Melbourne, Victoria, Australia
It's no more than a glass box. Five panes of glass siliconed together to hold water. It's what you make of it, what you put in it and how you care for it that gives it the potential to shine.

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

I knew it, I knew he was nothing but a rat. nothing but a dirty snivelling sewer rat.

All he is, is a leech.
Sucking the life out of everyone.
Reaping the rewards of everyone else's hard work.
He claims to have put "everything" into building up a business.
His last attempt to build a business.
Honestly, I think it's stupid.
Idiotic, hypocritical.
Just plain fucking stupid.
Sure, you say were out of money, you've been saying that for the past eight years.
But hey! instead of finding a stable job to put food on the table.
You apply for several loans of unimaginable amounts of money and decide to open up a business all by yourself?
Sure, you were a pretty good salesman back in the day.
But that was then, this is now.
It's bee over twenty years since you even touched the business side of life.
You've lost it, times have changed.
You have three kids, you have a house, you have responsibilities fucker.
Sure, Ritchie turned 22, sure Fi turned 20, sure I almost seventeen and i'm already workin my ass off.
I'm sick of you.
Sick of your face, sick of your dirty smirk, I just don't want to see your face, I don't want you anywhere near me.
Were paying for almost everything, so why the fuck are you here.
Can't you just take your bank loans and ridiculous credit card debts somewhere else?
Why do WE have to be the ones you run to when your card runs up thousands.
You come to me saying you've got a bill of 800 on your credit card,
and half of it was from paying my hospitality course for highschool.
Fine, I understand that.
I've already promised I'd pay it back, heck i've already started paying it back.
Almost three quarters of it to be exact.
You want how much from me and my sister and brother?
1700 is the final number.
and its due when? next week?
Fuck off. No really, just get the fuck out of here.
Don't call me your son.
Don't even say my name.
I'm your wife's son.
I don't even know how she put up with your shit.
I sure can't.
She probably would've lasted longer if it wasn't for you.
Get away from me.
You're nothing but shit.
Smash your face in if it wasn't for domestic assault charges.

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