We walk around this place exploded, torn and dazed. Never been any love, but I’d like there to be respect. I’d also like to win the fucking lottery.
Just so sad to be so distant from someone once so close, if only in one regard. So disappointing you can’t get your shit together. Unfortunate you put all three of us through this.
So here we are like circus monkeys escaped from the science labs. We leave one Hell for another. These are your days, this is your time. Use this hiccupped moment appropriately – for it will forever be separate from the many which are mine.
I would call you the loser. I would call me the sucker. But I’d call the 4-year-old the one who’s crushed. It’s bad enough to have your parents separated – it’s worse to know one is unfit to take care of you alone. That’s a tough cross to bear.
I deal with fools daily with my job. They call me, stop by the office, grab my shoulder at the courthouse. But you have the honor of knowing you’re the most self-centered, arrogant and all-out mad person I’ve ever met. At least the fools have passion – you are numbly stupid.
And this third party who is with us. She is an angel. She will have wings, but not now. I need to know you will encourage her to fly to the right place when it is the right time. Until then, we are going through motions, appeasing a fourth party who is only known to you and is a friend to your madness.
We’ve all got problems. But most of us get help. You are the least of us.
It is the third party who suffers for this.