And while I'm sure that he will never read this, because he takes no interest in anything I do, I feel the need for a mental purging.

I can't say that I'm Sorry for the way that you feel about me, or even that I'm particularly hurt by it, but more that I'm saddened at how pathetic and childish you really are. A man of your age should be able to suck it up and roll with the punches, but instead you prefer to throw little temper tantrums and whine about how no one appreciates anything you do for them. Guess what bub, that’s life.. Get a fucking helmet. No one pins gold stars on you every time you pay the electric bill or buy milk that someone else will drink with your last 3 dollars. And sure, everyone needs a little pat on the back every now and then and a "good job" here and there, but you seem to expect someone to melt down their fillings and mold a bust of you in the town square, and it just aint gonna happen.

>bubble<*POP*>/bubble< ...deal.

What’s more sickening is how translucent your rage is. It doesn't stem from me or anything that I've done to you, it stems from deep within yourself, and the knowledge that I've done better that you ever thought I would. I've proved you wrong. I went out, made something of myself, and now I've come back to take over what you fucked up. You know I will succeed at it too, and it eats you like a cancer of the soul.

Two days ago, I would have tried to console you about it, and tell you that it's all alright. Today I wouldn't even help you pick out the right ammunition to splatter yourself against the wall, because it would be a waste of my time.

Thank god I never listened to you when you told me life sucks.

Life is great... You suck.