OUCH.

You never come for my plays. Fine.

You don’t even pretend to be interested about what I do in theater. Fine.

You force me to drop the idea of pursuing theater as a career. Fine.

But Dad you cannot stop me from doing what I love.

It’s no biggy if you need to send Kenny to football and tuition and pick him up too. But picking me up from college once or twice a week for just one month is an issue. Just because I’m doing this as a volunteer and I’m not getting paid. Just because its “a waste of time”.

Fuck that.

You PAY for Kenny’s football and tuition.

You DON’T PAY for my theater.

So why can’t you for once support me?

I am finally doing something WORTHWHILE for myself and you can’t even pretend to be happy for me.

What the fuck, Dad.

I don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore. What, you want me to quit? Is that what you fucking want? I can’t just stop, just like you can’t seem to put down that box of cigarettes.

I don’t know anymore. Really. What hurts the most is that you don’t at all support me, even when you know how much this means to me.

Dad. I’m sorry. But I cannot go through this for the rest of my life. I cannot take all the tension and all the fights.

I can’t keep breaking down like this.