It’s tough when you’ve made a fallacious decision. All sorts of terrible; life-changing things happen! Your feelings about life changed. toi find it difficult to mend the situation, and ou know toi can’t adjust it. toi beg and plead to redo everything, but that’s life, it happened for a reason.
My father’s been drinking as long as I can remember. He’d drink about seven bottles of bière everyday when he got back from work. I’ve told him once in awhile about how concerned I am about his drinking, especially how dangerous it is when consumed too much, and his response was always the same, “I’m a grown man, and ill manage my own life!” Always hurt me a bit every time he a dit that.
At times he’ll get too drunk and be furious and just not himself! It’ll get formidable at times. Then when he grew ill and had to get treated for Alcohol Poisoning, it didn’t matter to me nor shock me! My father’s been at the Memorial Hospital for about a week now. My mother has been visiting my father every jour since he’s been there, and every time before she leaves, she always asks me to accompany her, and every time, I reply with an angry “No!” and storm off to my room. Then one jour she came back late from the hospital crying, I couldn’t interpret her sobs but then instantly I hear her mutter, “It w-a-as too l-late for y-your father, he’s g-gone.” For the reason of “love” I cried for days, and grew much oppressed. Then through my long days of depression I started to think about the last time I confronted and spoke with my father. Maybe I should have gone to see him! I should have told him that I loved him! Ugh! Maybe I should have tried to help him stop drinking; I could have prevented his death from coming early! It’s my fault for not making a big deal about his drinking! I should of kept pushing and not of donné up! All I thought was grief and woe. Now, he’s probably standing on Hell’s door mat. Obviously, he wasn’t the best dad in the world, but he’s still my father no matter where he is.
My last tear rolled down my red cheeks as I thought about the horrible things about my father. It’s horrible that he ended up this way though! I l’amour him! Even though he wasn’t perfect I admit that I do regret my selfish decisions that came over me every time my mother asked me to go visit him.
My father’s been drinking as long as I can remember. He’d drink about seven bottles of bière everyday when he got back from work. I’ve told him once in awhile about how concerned I am about his drinking, especially how dangerous it is when consumed too much, and his response was always the same, “I’m a grown man, and ill manage my own life!” Always hurt me a bit every time he a dit that.
At times he’ll get too drunk and be furious and just not himself! It’ll get formidable at times. Then when he grew ill and had to get treated for Alcohol Poisoning, it didn’t matter to me nor shock me! My father’s been at the Memorial Hospital for about a week now. My mother has been visiting my father every jour since he’s been there, and every time before she leaves, she always asks me to accompany her, and every time, I reply with an angry “No!” and storm off to my room. Then one jour she came back late from the hospital crying, I couldn’t interpret her sobs but then instantly I hear her mutter, “It w-a-as too l-late for y-your father, he’s g-gone.” For the reason of “love” I cried for days, and grew much oppressed. Then through my long days of depression I started to think about the last time I confronted and spoke with my father. Maybe I should have gone to see him! I should have told him that I loved him! Ugh! Maybe I should have tried to help him stop drinking; I could have prevented his death from coming early! It’s my fault for not making a big deal about his drinking! I should of kept pushing and not of donné up! All I thought was grief and woe. Now, he’s probably standing on Hell’s door mat. Obviously, he wasn’t the best dad in the world, but he’s still my father no matter where he is.
My last tear rolled down my red cheeks as I thought about the horrible things about my father. It’s horrible that he ended up this way though! I l’amour him! Even though he wasn’t perfect I admit that I do regret my selfish decisions that came over me every time my mother asked me to go visit him.
Coffee beans
