I can't love dad because I loved mom. She always loved me.

I sleep under stale sunlight and dirty clothes, I hug my piss bottles so I never have to find the bathroom. I like to save time.

Dad loves his new family. He made it with the little insurance money mom left me, and he always tries to bribe this betrayal from me by reminding me of the bumper cars at that carnival we used to go to in the fall.

I always remind him about the time mom found him fucking a college girl, who happened to be his secretary. He tells me I'm my own worst enemy, and I say, "Guess the asshole didn't fall far from the tree." That's how we leave things, and I feel good when he stutters before he hangs up.

Mom. I love you. I've said this so many times before. I've held my breath and pushed until I almost shit blood, believing this is how a young man brings you back to life. I've waited, I'm waiting, and now I know if I keep wasting my energy fighting dad, I'll end up like you. I think this will make us happy.   

Andrew Davis
Nic Pizzolatto