I hate you, mother, for keeping a d**** in broad daylight for me to see.
I am addicted to using a d**** and use it whenever no one is home.
I hate you, mother, for not finding out, and if you do know, for not confronting me about it or throwing it out.
It also made me addicted to p***, which I am fortunately growing out of.
I hate you, mother, because if I would have never seen that, I would have never done something like that.

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  • I fail to see your reason for blaming your mom. My aunt always kept her d***** and vibrators out and none of her kids became j***-off addicts.

    Addiction fills an emptiness inside the addict. If you had never seen your mom's d****, you'd still have that emptiness. If you weren't a j***-off junkie, you'd be a gambling junkie or food junkie, or more conventional junkie or boozer. And still blaming someone else.


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