Practicing respect.

There is no realistic and unrealistic in this life.
Everyone has another way of seeing things and you are not the one to tell them, if they are right or wrong.
Because there is no right or wrong, there is no pretty or ugly, cool or uncool, clever and stupid.
Everyone is what he wants to be and no one should take this privilege away.

If I wanna be an artist, I will be a fucking artist. And if you don’t like my paintings, well that is your problem.
Somewhere out there are the people that buy used tissues from Miley Cyrus, so I am pretty sure I’ll make a living.

And my neighbor is a prostitute and they look at her as if she is the dirtiest person they’ve known, but only if they knew the reason she chose this profession or the way she feels at night, then could they only talk about her – and that only if it actually was their business.

But my father is an asshole and he never gave a shit about us, he’s the reason we left and he will always be the reason why my mother has always been a mother and a father and worked so much to be able to give me everything.
But that was his decision. And he probably had a reason to destroy his family. May this reason be as complex as the situation itself or as simple as the alcohol that destroyed the brain cells he had left.
Am I not the one to hate him, or the one to call him dad.
I can only just respect him after all that he has done.
Being his daughter was a problem but also a great gift, cause the destiny had chosen all I was supposed to be.

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