I’m going through some things right now. I feel like the people around me have dwindled away. Good. I kinda like it. I need people who accept me for who I am, not who they think I am or who they want me to be.
Most people don’t know who I am, so I can say what I have on my mind without having judgmental people tell me what to do, or go tell my dad I’m writing about him. People are a fuckin trip! -RealityOfAPreachersDaughter
I hear these success stories about the struggle before the big break… I guess that’s where I am. Working working working. Experiencing and trying to let go of my fears.
Fearing success, failure, fame, money, poverty, family… this is why people never get shit. I just couldn’t wait any longer. I’ve been taking chances, putting myself out there. I know one day people will see who I am. Until then, I have to grind hard, then grind harder. -RealityOfAPreachersDaughter
Don’t know and don’t care! -RealityOfAPreachersDaughter
Like I’m tossing some shit in the trash can and miss, pick it up, miss, pick it up again, miss. SHIT!!! I feel like I’m aiming right but I’m going around, over, or coming short of the goal.
All I want to do is fucking throw it away.
Throw away all the fuckery that keeps me down, holds me back, makes me sick, breaks me out, makes me depressed, has me overwhelmed and stressed the fuck out. -RealityOfAPreachersDaughter
What I hate the most about writing is the temporary depression paired with I can’t fuckin think straight. Now all I can think about is my past. The fights, the struggles, the religion… growing up too fast.
I have to use my iPhone because my laptop has gone stupid and I need to write when I think about it. I can’t let this stuff stay in. I can’t let it eat away at me until I die or he dies.
Since my father is a reader, at least he use to be, maybe he can digest a book by his daughter better thab listening because he NEVER LISTENED!!!!
It sucks when you have something to say and you never get heard. That’s one of the reasons I write and draw. You can’t be interrupted. -RealityOfAPreachersDaughter
I wanted attention from him, but the kind I got wasn’t what I wanted. I needed him to be my father. To love me like he loved the other little pretty girls.
I wondered why he didn’t care for me very much. Was it because I didn’t look like him? Was it because I was a girl? Was it because he resented my mother? Was it because he thought I wasn’t his daughter?
I don’t know, but I could never allow my children to be treated like he treated us. Maybe that’s why I still don’t have any. –RealityOfAPreachersDaughter
My mom told me if I wasn’t saved I would be left behind. I asked what I was being saved from, and she told me hell. I asked what about all the people who’ve never heard of “Christ”, and she told me everyone has an opportunity to accept Jesus as their savior.
I feel that religion has our minds stuck making people feel like they’re better than others.
Being left behind when the “Rapture” comes can scare the shit out of any child and adult. The story is, after the rapture there will be a time of peace, then chaos. People will have the opportunity to take the “mark of the beast” which will help them with food and money. If you don’t get it, you can be tortured and beheaded… there’s more to the story, but I’ll stop there.
If people tell you this, you can scare people into controlling them, right? – ROAPD
Everyone has had a broken heart, I guess. It’s just worse when it’s the person you call father. The news I’ve been hearing lately about him has me very concerned (more like driving me nuts). I’ve tried time after time year after year, and he just makes . It’s like he just doesn’t care about his life anymore. There is nothing I could say to him because he would never listen anyway. So maybe, JUST MAYBE, when I finish this book, he will still have time to bounce back and turn his life completely around. Maybe I can save the father who could care less about me. #Prayforme
-Preacher’s Daughter
I will be successful! I am determined to be everything I was created to be, but God Help me. Only God can help me.
Today my mother went back to Texas and it doesn’t make me happy at all to know she’s going back there to be by herself. Her being here felt like she never left. It felt like this was how it’s suppose to be, now she’s boarding her plane at CLT.
Sometimes I just don’t get life. I can’t communicate with my father without him hollering at me for how bad of a daughter I am and my mother is in Texas.
The father figure I have doesn’t even know I look at him this way. I talk to him when I can, but he no longer lives close. I can’t get why everyone moves away from me. Other than my husband and my Pepe’, I feel alone. Sometimes I just want to have a parent around at least one.
I’ve been crying for days. I wish he would just listen… It will never happen.
I’ve been messed up for years, but no one would really know. Covered it up quite good. I just wanted to have a relationship with my father that I never got. Since I was a little girl it was all about being tough, not being his little princess. I just wanted my daddy. The one who would hold my hand at the park, or tell me how proud he was of me. Tell me how beautiful I was, kiss my forehead and pray with me at bedtime. I cried a lot. I cried myself to sleep a lot. No one knew. I had to be the strong one for my siblings, for my mom. I had to be strong in front of my dad because when he saw a weakness he would irritate it, nag at it, scratch at it, until I fought back. It always ended badly.
As I grew up, I had to put on an armor. Changed my outward to look harder than I actually was. People who knew me when I was younger know how I use to dress. I was a tomboy. Boys clothes, worked out everyday, push ups, sit ups, running, boxing in the mirror. It kept the pain at ease and I had to make sure I was strong enough to fight my dad back.
I watched how he treated my brothers. One was the Favorite, the other was not. My mother and I would try to take up for him, but Dad was too overpowering. He never listened. It was always “his way”. His way was horrible. I prayed all the time that this would end. EVERYTHING WOULD END. It didn’t. It just got worse…
Reality Of A Preacher's Daughter 