Thirty Letters in Thirty Days

So I guess I should say thanks. You know, for giving me life, even though you may not have meant to. And it was just nature. I don't really want it. But thanks anyway. You guys must have had fun having sex and not thinking about 'maybe they wont want life but we're too busy fucking each other to care'. Cheers, really.
On a less gloomy and sexual note- I'm glad you guys are against child abuse. Otherwise, I'd be fucked. Dad's okay- maybe because I hardly see you- even if you do drink and smoke and live with rude bogans. Mom on the other hand, not so much. (I'm not American, I know, you pick on me for that all the time, but I read too many American fiction novels to not do that. Mom). Maybe it's because I see you almost every day of my life, and you're a bitch to me, and you always think I'm going to be just like you and think I'm your exact image when you were younger. You know what? Fuck off. I am my own person, so just leave me be to be that person. I am not you. If you get that through your head, maybe we'll be alright. Your fiancée is better than you are -even though I don't talk to him, at all, ever, he's still better than you- so maybe you can learn a thing or two from him. You say you're a grown woman, but you're as clueless as an infant. More than fourteen years and I'm still a complete stranger to you. Problem? Yes.
So yes, I have a lot against my mother and nothing to say about my father. Soon-to-be step father, either. Nothing to say.
~Kris.