Hello. I'm David.
I'm not that bad of a guy.
I try my best not to be.
Let's be friends or something.
I think that's how it works.
I wish it would rain all day
Maybe that would make the pain go away.
I needed to vent..

I don’t fucking get it.
My mom doesn’t call me. She doesn’t call Will. She doesn’t call Jacob. She’ll post statuses on facebook about how her boys are her world and how nobody can come between her and her boys and how she’d do amything for her boys and it makes me wonder if she fucking considers us her boys. Like are you only talking about Marquis and Johnny?
And by “nobody” do you mean Alex? Because I’m pretty fucking sure you dropped me and boast about your man, now.
You can post facebook statuses saying that it’s your son, Will’s birthday but you don’t even have the decency to tag him in it or call him first. You call him later on in the evening.
You don’t even fucking acknowledge me.
FUCK it.
You want Alex? FUCK it. I don’t fucking care. You want him to cheat on you again? What the fuck ever. Dont say I didn’t warn you.
But stop calling me? Stop visiting us immediately when Will and I move into the house in Jersey? That fucking hurts. To go from coming over all of the time to acting like we don’t exist.
It fucking hurts dude.
Because you always said you’d visit me. And you never even had the fucking nerve to tell me that you couldn’t come. You just would never show up. To a point where I never even believe you when we hear some fucking rumor that you plan on coming by. Because it never happens. You claim to give a shit about us but where’s the FUCKING PROOF.
When I was In the fucking hospital, you couldn’t even show up.
The greatest fucking feeling
And I mean the GREATEST fucking feeling would be to see your face in the crowd when I had performances. It felt fucking great to see that you actually showed up.
And I thank you so much for showing up for 3 performances.
Hearing you whistling down the hall when you would walk to grandma’s apartment to pick me up for the weekend. It was the sweetest fucking sound. Even though I knew that’s one of the only sounds I’d hear from you because for the remainder of the weekend, you’d have your eyes closed, and rocking back and forth. And I didn’t know why.
And now I know.
And I don’t hate you for exposing me to that.
I’m not upset that I had to see Alex fucking tackle you to the ground while you were pregnant. I would try to get the son of a bitch off of you even though I was a tiny fucking 8 year old boy.
I don’t hate you for choosing Alex over us.
I don’t hate you for keeping me a motel room with a group of men, packaging drugs. Even when pops and elisa found me that night. And I knew I shouldve hated you for it. But I still couldn’t wait to hear your whistle down the hall again.
It hurts so bad.
I just wish you’d at least call.

But you don’t even do that. You claim to not have the money to come over, but then you post pictures of you drinking with friends. You obviously have money for that. You couldn’t even visit us for christmas. Every year before this, no matter what, you were here for Christmas. But this past christmas, you had the fucking audacity to say you’d show up and not fucking call us to tell us you weren’t coming. We had to call YOU. And then we find out that you bought Alex cigarettes and made him breakfast in bed and snuggled up with him while the kids were over here. You couldn’t spend christmas with your kids because you wanted to spend it with Alex instead. It wouldve hurt either way, but I wish you couldve at least told me that that was why you didn’t want to come. Because you wanted to fucking treat Alex like a king. Set your fucking priorities straight. Fucking ignore me dude. But don’t ignore Jacob. At least ACT like you fucking care. But you don’t. You say you do. But you really don’t.

1 day ago · 0 notes