I've tried to be patient with you. I've tried to do what you've asked of me. I've tried to forgive you for everything you do. I've tried even harder to take up for my own shortcomings. I've done all that I can.
You tell me I need to get a job. Well, I need a ride to turn in applications. You have to take me, or get me a car. I need a phone to know if they want me. You obviously fucked me over on that, but I worked around it. I would need transportation there everyday. You can not do that, So I need a car. You said you would get me one... we both know that it wont happen. And yet, every day, you bitch at me because I don't have a job. I've been trying to get help, trying to get a job. You've done nothing to help. And uh, doesn't that fall into your responsibility, as my only parrent? To help me prepare for life. I am trying... you are failing.
This car situation is rather confusing. You want me to do all of these things... that REQUIRE me to have access to a VEHICLE. Yet, you wont let me use your car, or help me get my own. How can you possibly expect me to do anything? You say that its because its falling apart... heres a hint... GET THE FUCKER FIXED! Hell, I can't use it once a month, yet you drive it all day, to places I normally have to walt to every day.
This brings me to another situation. You complain about the car being in not so good condition. And you complain about your weight. Lets put two and two together, shall we? Did it ever occur to you, that you should walk to all of those places? Including you work? I mean... it may be so damned far away... but I think that even you could walk a whole block away from the house to go to work. And yes, It will help with your weight. But, you don't really care about that, do you? You just want to sit on your ass and complain about the problems you don't try, or even want, to fix. Well, since you like to sit, keep sitting. But as long as you are going to do nothing, then dont complain about what would be nothing.
I think it is time you take som responsibility. Something you've told me since I could talk. You've preached about it quite often. And like many, you're a hypocrite. I watch you, come home, and sit on your ass at the computer, looking for the next guy to fuck you, and your children over.
Oh... you didn't think about that, either, did you? Everytime you get fucked over by one of those bastards, you fuck us over as well. You make us do everything, make everything perfect when you do find someone to date, so that they will like you. And when they don't like you, we are to blame. Still, we put up with it. We watched Andrea, for your midnight dates, we lied for you, to make you look better, I put up with racial slander, to make you look better. Makes you happy though... right?
What about my relationship though... with My beautiful, wonderful, amazing girlfriend? The first person to show me she trully cared. The only one who still does. The only person I believe loves me. And we have a healthy relationship... but I can not go see her once in a while. A bit selfish... arent you?
Your mistakes are your responsibility. And its time you took responsibility for all 4 of your mistakes... and yes, that includes the worst one you made... Me. (Sounds a bit selfish of me as well to bring it back to me... but that is what this letter is about.) I may be a fuck up to you, but please try to realize, I may be able to do something with my life. I may be able to become something. You think your life is so shity, well, make something of it. Give me the chance to succeed. Show that you have produced something with your life. Let me be what I can. Help me. Instead of holding me back out of spite, push me forward, out of fear. Fear that You wont see your children do something wonderful. Fear that you wont see them get married. Fear that something will happen to one and you will outlive him. Or perhaps this might hit you a bit harder. Do it out of the fear that everyone will look at you and think that you are a horrible person.
I am tired of all of this. I am tired of not being able to do anything right for you. I am tired. You want to fight all the time, I'll let you fight with yourself now. You want to be proud of something... then help me succeed. I tried to tell you, but you didn't listen, but if I still have your attention, the lowest grade I have this semester in school is an 87. That is a B. Personally, I don't think that it is that bad. Be proud of me. Not ashamed. I am trying. And think of it this way. The more you help me to succeed now, the sooner I can leave, and be out of your hair for good.
Think about it. We could both use a good nights sleep. When will we get it?
Christopher W. Fowers
(I am sorry, but I am a mistake that wont go away)