I should warn everyone this is not going to be a fun or funny blog. Sorry, just not in a hilarious mood for this one. I'll try that later, m'kay?

I have conversations sometimes, in my head, rants or what have you, that I would never actually tell the person in the conversation. This is where I'll be storing them, just so they won't only be in my head rattling around forever.

"You want to know why I'm the way I am with my brother? Why all appearances point to me never being a good father unless I get lucky with the perfect child? I can tell you. I can tell you right now, and it's going to feel like I've slapped you across the face. You're going to hurt, and you're going to cry, and I'll feel bad for it. But remember, you're the one who pressed this conversation. You're the one who couldn't accept that I know something about my life that you don't see. You asked for it.

He and I don't get along because when he was six and I was twelve, when he needed discipline and attention and I tried to give it to him, you said no. That's it. It's not his bipolar disorder, it's not my aspergers, it's that while you were busy working six hours a day with Dad after we got out of school to provide for us the new house you thought we deserved, the new game system you thought was so important to us, the new car you thought you wanted because it wasn't scratched up, for taking us to movies you thought we couldn't wait a month to rent and see later... While you and Dad worked so hard to provide us with so much useless junk, I tried to step up for six hours a day and be a father at age twelve to your son. I tried to take your place, and then you told me it wasn't my job to spank him, not my job to stick him in a corner for ten minutes because he did something he wasn't supposed to do, lied about it, and then did it again knowing I had already told him no. You told me it wasn't my job, even when I looked you in the eyes and couldn't bring myself to say, 'Well, you're sure as hell not doing it!'.
You made me a father at age 12, and told me I couldn't be that father to him. And that schism split me in two, and when he rubbed me the wrong way I cracked, and I lashed out, and once or twice I lost control and hurt him, and had to look into his eyes and see the fear and hatred and feel like the meanest demon to ever walk the planet for it. But that's nothing compared to what you did to him, leaving him with nobody to watch him but the kid who didn't like being around people at the age of six, and not being around often enough to teach him how to live his life like a grown up. What happened to me was nothing, absolutely nothing, compared to him growing up with no parents. I tried to fill that void, I really did, but you wouldn't allow it and you wouldn't step up to do it.
So yes, he and I don't get along perfectly. And yes, based on that I would look like a really poor excuse for a father. But you know? I'm not twelve, and I've still got plenty of time to learn what I need to to become one. So think hard, look at your own mistakes and how I've learned from them, and when you're done crying let me know if you really think you weren't better off just trusting me to know what I'm doing?"