Sometimes I wonder if you even know that I exist. It’s always my fault. I AM ALWAYS WRONG! I come home; you don’t even ask me how I am or even where I’ve been, not even once. Jeez. I could be dead for all you care.
I come back from work early and you ask me if I got fired. I sent you so many letters during that summer and you don’t bother to answer even one? I ask you why and you tell me that “I’m not one for the letters.” What a load of bullshit. When Lennie was at camp one summer working as a counsellor, you had written to him every week. Didn’t you even want to know if I was alright, how I was doing or if I needed anything?
I don’t even know why I’m saying all of this. Lennie was always the smart one for you. Lennie’s not as smart as you think he is. You have no idea how many times I’ve taken him out of trouble. He came to me for help when he needed it because he was afraid that he’d stoop low in your eyes. I never had to because you never expected anything out of me. What do you think I’m supposed to do when everyone, when you, think that I’ll be a nobody? You think that I’m like you but I’m not. I want to be a somebody. I don’t want to drive a taxi for the rest of my life. That’s not half of what you do. Can you believe how ashamed I am that my father is nothing but a lousy pimp? Jeez.
On top of that, you always think that I am wrong, that things are always my fault. When MacPherson said that you weren’t fit enough to raise me, you knew that he was right, that’s why you blamed it on me. The only reason I told you that was because maybe once, just once, it would be nice if you were on my side.
I wanted to open up a film business and start filming bar-mitzvahs and weddings. I wanted to make you proud. I wanted you to think that you might have been wrong of treating me like a ghostly presence in your life. Do you know how you tore me apart when you said that I’m just throwing my money away and that it’ll teach me a good lesson? How many 17 year olds...
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