Diary of an Unorthadox Pedophile

Today's Powell's birthday, but I don't have the guts to call him. He's turning 16. That makes this year 4 that I haven't spoken to him. It's almost impossible with Lisa Marie breathing into the telephone, listening in on the conversation or cutting it off completely. That woman hates me. I'm not entirely sure that my son does, but he might be on his way. What's there to love, anyways? Hopefully I'll get to see him again. Maybe when he moves out and that bitch isn't there. Somehow, I'll scrounge up the money to fly out. One day.