The Politics of Loss
I thought I'd managed to work through and put aside my grief for the intellectual child of my heart, ripped from my custody and handed over to someone who promised he'd care for her as if I would. Pfagh. Not hardly.

Having raised this "child" on healthy food and loving discipline, I now am confronted by the spectacle of her new "parent" blithely stuffing her with junk food and abandoning curfews. Instead of her homework, she's scribbling schitzophrenic ramblings with little or no connection to what has been established in the past. I want to rage and pound my fists against the wall until they're bloody. I want to kick the self-serving idiot to the curb for pandering to steal her love.

But I can't. All I can do is turn away and stop visiting. There is nothing I can do; I've been shut out by no will of my own, and to watch the degradation will only drive me nuts. Otherwise I fear the next thing I'll see will be her teen p0rn webcam...

(For those who know I have no mortal children and who might think I've finally popped a spring, I need to rant and only feel that I can do so in allegory.)