It would have been nice to have a real father figure in my life. My father was always trying to make me good by banging my head against the kitchen wall as a five year old. I would be crying, the snot comming out of my nose and I would be laughing in his face. To show him he could not hurt me. It got even better as I got older. He was always trying to make my older brother and mother good as well. I ran away from home at around 11. My punk brother and weak mother stayed. And took the abuse. It finally stopped when I was 15 after someone murdered my Daddio. He was hung from the back Clothes line. I really miss that old fuck.