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It was just a dress that happened to sit in the back of a wardrobe, one he
casually forgot about, and just sold one day. That's all---- It was probably just like
picking up a coin that had fallen behind a bookcase for that man.
Yes.
This man was really useless.
My father was really no good.
I realized that.
At the bottom of my heart, I realized that.
That is why I decided to kill my father---- No, to be honest, it would be
hard for me to say I had such a strong level of decision as that. Really, that was
like the feeling of crushing a bug that had crawled behind a bookcase---- for me.
To use the term pest-control would actually be cheapening myself......
But if I think back and reflect upon it, and I ask myself why I didn't do it, why I
didn't kill that man and just left him alive, I can't find an answer.
Working day and night to earn this man money for liquor and for
medicine was enraging.---- And not to mention embarrassing.
What a mistake I've made.
That's what I thought.
My father was certainly a "taker
My mother was a "giver" and my father was a "taker
I understood that.
I understood--- and yet I did not.
The one being taken from was me.
Under my father, while I lived with him, I felt I was doing well enduring
as I have, cleverly and obstinately surviving. But I was wrong.
I was merely being exploited by him.
I finally realized I was just being taken advantage of and being treated
like a slave.
It was late, but I finally realized it.
No----- It should not have been too late. I should still have been in time.
That is why I decided to actually do it.