Member-only story
Facebook Always Reminds Me When the One Person I Hated Died
Thanx for thinking of me though 🙄
I’m kinda grateful for Facebook memories actually. It has a wonderful way of reminding me how much I’ve grown, how far I’ve come and I also get to see who is still in my life (or should I say, still on my “friends” list) and who got dumped.
It also is a great source of information, that probably should be relatively important to me, like the day my father died. Every time it comes up I think “oh, was that on this day…wait how many years ago now?..wow”
I never have any clue. I always forget the anniversary of his death. It just doesn’t really matter that much to me. It should though. It was probably the happiest day of my life.
But my father never really mattered much to me.
Growing up ugly
My whole upbringing was ugly. All of it. So was I (at least I thought so). I was raised by strict Italians, who were clueless as to how to raise children. There was little love, no encouragement or support, and affection was non existent.
What we had a lot of was anger, hate, neglect and physical abuse. Oh there was lots of that. My childhood was disturbing and textbook dysfunctional. I had strained relationships with my parents growing up.
