I don't want this apology. It's insincere and vague and blames the alcohol for what you did. It's a bullshit apology, take it back.
I don't want a real apology. I don't want you to sit down and think out what you really did wrong, I don't want to walk you through all the ways you were a heartless bastard holier than thou fuck. I don't want to talk to you at all. You'll turn my honesty and insight against me, and you'll figure out the buttons to push to convince me you're not all that bad, like you convinced other people and fuck you get out.
I don't want to fight with you. Oh, don't get me wrong, it would be so satisfying to punch the smug right off your fucking face, the sting in my knuckles and the adrenaline jitters. But you wouldn't hit back because I'm a girl and you can't see past that, and you'd ask for another and twist it into some gross parody of a BDSM thing and I don't want to be a part of your fantasies. I don't want to be that important to you, on the off chance that it somehow affected me. I don't want you to touch me like that.
I don't want to make up. I don't believe you. You're not getting better and you have no interest in doing so outside of the fact that being perceived as the miserable piece of shit that you are is getting in your way and you hate things that get in your way. That's why you made fun of me. That's why you made fun of the concept of therapy and of being broken and the entire culture of getting better. You're a piece of shit and you always will be and I don't care about your abusive dad or the stress or anything you ever did because fuck you get out of my life.
I don't want you. Get out.
That was intense. Sounds like some long-held anger indeed. Shit all else to say, just hang on. Helluva rant!
AMEN.