Thank you to [xxangelxx], [god] and [sapda] for all your kind comments.

Thank you, also, anybody who's looked at my drawings or writing. I'm glad, xxangelxx, my stuff makes sense to you.

I wrote a poem, about how i felt for my father, during a GCSE exam. Note that, when i wrote this, i hadn't seen him in 7-or-so years. When i read it over recently, i realised that these thoughts and feelings i had written were, in fact, not mine; they couldn't have been, considering how much i knew about my father.

The poem was, instead of a personal response to my father's behaviour, a sum-up of all the paranioa, fear, hate and disgust - which my mother has for him. It was actually quite a frightening realisation; my mother governs so many of my feelings. I ended up speaking to her, not about the poem, but about trying to be a little less controlling over me (although i realise it's partly my fault for being so meek).