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Logingrowing a conscience
2 posts
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taken this story from http://www.collegestories.com/StoryView.aspx?sid=4038&page=1
If anything goes wrong, you could always blame it on your parents. It’s their divorce, their excessive attention, neglect, their lack of money, them having too much money, them being weird, sometimes, you don’t know why, but you just hate them anyways.
My parents knew I loved them. What they didn’t know, was that I actually hated them both. Mommy cried too much. Daddy could be having an affair. Mommy was weak. Daddy was an asshole. I couldn’t say that to their faces; they were too nice.
I hated the thought of my dad having an affair. I was never sure of this, though. But anyhow, if he had less money, he wouldn’t have the nerve to spend money on someone else besides our family.
So, what do I do? Use up his money. Steal his money. Use it on my friends to buy beer, drugs, throw parties. Anything. Just have a reason to use it, rather than having someone else use it up.
I started flunking. I used to be a smart kid. But I didn’t care. When I found out I was flunking, I thought it was a better way of getting his attention.
One day, I found myself doing it on purpose. I was already in one of those nice expensive colleges. I thought, what the heck, let him waste his money on me rather than waste it on someone else. I made him pay for classes I never attended. I made him pay for books, and clothes, and gasoline. I didn’t care. I made him pay.
I got kicked out of that school. I didn’t care either. I picked the most expensive college I could think of, and transferred there. I’d make him spend more money on me, I thought.
I didn’t stop. I wasted his money. Really, I didn’t care. I was wasting his money. I was wasting my time too. I didn’t care. He deserved it, or so I thought.One day, I hit rock bottom. I found myself sitting near the toilet with a hangover, wondering where my friends were. Then it hit me, they were all in school. They had classes. I didn’t have anything else to do that day. I had dropped all my classes.
My dad works abroad. He had the money for us to go visit him anytime we wanted to. Usually, my mom goes to spend time with him. He likes having us over because he lived alone. One day, me and my sister went, because obviously, I had a lot of free time. I was going to spend his money on shopping.
He wasn’t there when my sister and I got to his place. I checked his refrigerator to get us food. I started crying when I saw what was inside.
It was nearly empty. There were a lot of ketchup packets from fast food restaurants. There was airplane food from his flights. There was leftover instant noodles in a styrofoam bowl. It was pathetic. I felt so sorry for him. He spent all the free time he had with us during that trip. He always does that. He was so nice. I felt more awful.
When I got back, I realized how much I’ve destroyed myself because of hatred. I had no future, a bad social life, and a conscience, finally.
I’m trying to fix things up in school now. It really makes me sick that he still has to pay for my school. I would’ve graduated by now if I hadn’t screwed things up. I’m really trying to get back on track. I can’t ask my dad to buy me anything anymore. Shopping now makes me feel sick. One day, I’m going to pay him back, I swear. Right now, all I could do is make sure he’s happy by doing well in school.
It’s not easy. But I deserve it. I know.
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