This is something that's been roiling in my mind lately. 

This happened more than a month ago. I can't remember what they were fighting over. It must have been over my mom's habitual criticisms and insults towards my dad. He exploded and they got into a huge fight over what amounted to nothing at all. My mom would admit no wrong because my dad was being violent; she refused to speak to him, partially because she was scared. In her eyes, he saw no reason. My dad would admit no wrong because he thought she deserved it. He thought he could not control himself. It was her fault he had done it. In his eyes, she carried all the wrong because of all the abuse he had endured in the past.

When he had to drive me to art class after that, I knew I was in for it. For complaining, attention seeking, begging, guilt tripping. After all, he was counting on me to fix their relationship. He couldn't do it because she wouldn't listen. But he didn't want to get away either. He guilted me. Yelled about abuse and all that nonsense. Saying I was on her side and that I hated him. What bullshit. Attention seeking bullfuckery. Guilt tripping me like that all the while. I am surprised I even tried to help him considering his refusal to even listen to me. 

I told him that he didn't have to always listen to her. Didn't have to submit to her. Perhaps he could run away for a few days. Vacation. Be away from us for once. Silence. I said that he needed to have boundaries. He never spoke up unless he was yelling. That was why she never listened. Perhaps if he would calm down for a second. I reminded him of the time I had stood up to her. I had been completely calm, stared her straight in the eyes, refused to show pain or back down. Knowing I was under her foot but still refusing to be crushed. I told him that I had been proud. And could he try doing the same? Perhaps he could tell her in a normal tone of voice. Peacefully. Perhaps they could work out something. 

Yelling. She never listens to me, he said. She's so mean to me, she abuses me. She loves you more than me. You both hate me. Everyone hates me. 

I don't want to talk to her. I hate her. He repeats this line over and over for the rest of the ride. 

Before I leave the car, I say, well, I tried to help you. He says, stone cold, "you didn't." I murmur that I'm sorry. I cried for the rest of the day. Just feeling guilty and horrible for everything.

I got mad at him too. When he was going on about everyone hating him, I countered him. My voice rose, and I inquired shakily about all those years he had called me fat and worthless and telling me I would never be good enough. 

You know what? He just got pissed at me "bringing up shit I did forever ago" and "just leave me alone" and "forget about it" and "why do you both do this?" Basically saying that my feelings don't matter but his so clearly do. Not even a goddamn apology. I was pissed beyond belief. I felt like screaming like in the old days. But I didn't. I let it go. No use talking to someone who will admit no wrong. 

I'm still pissed. I can still feel all of that, the guilt and the fury. I think about it probably every other day. I'm tired of all that. I need to stop thinking about all that.