Oh shit, he hated me! God, if you give this importance, you can touch the mind. I have everything simple – my children should listen to me and obey me, it is for their own good. And fuck, how they hate me there - it's a teenage jerk that will pass. And if they come up, there is always a belt. And you keep dancing with the drum around your broken "children" and tighten them up.

I remember the saying: guard the tears of children so that they will have something to shed on your grave.