Un

You hear everyone talk about growing up. Everyone wearing their business suits looking to work on Wall Street trading stocks. I hate overachievers.

You can call my father one of those people. That bastard. Always in his goddamn black suit. I'll make sure that will be the one I'll wear to his funeral-- jus sayin'.

His father was a poor farmer in Wyoming milking cows for a living. My father wanted to live a better life, but that bitch is so fake now.

Fake. Fake man. He broke his little bitches heart. Put a knife in it.

So the dick went to college. Big deal. He got a motherfucking piece of paper. Enslaved his poor farming ass background in books. Maybe he found fun in my torment. Thank god a bitch married his sorry ass. He doesn't deserve me as a son.

Liars. Its a biological thing in my family. Sometimes I feel I am adopted. Every time I ask the bitch he doesn't give me a fucking answer. Why the fuck would you adopt a fucking child and abuse their childhood. That bastard does not deserve to live any longer.