Wine Is Thicker Than Blood

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I have always considered myself ontologically independent from all things and I attribute none of what I have to you—except maybe my indifference.

Tell me, does indifference kill simplicity?

Wine is thicker than blood when it comes to you. While you think he's worth something, he thinks you're worthless. If it's a choice between you and liquor, he's always going to choose liquor. But that's the kid you're invested in, the one you're most proud of. 

You chose your golden child knowing he's pyrite.

To you, passivity is bliss. What's another fuck-up when your pregnancy was fucked to begin with? You should have just let him die; it would have saved you years of enablement.

He is a perverse form of fuckery. He could have been a father. And you encouraged it. It's a good thing she miscarried—just when I thought manifestation wasn't real. It's sad how your illusory recognition and faith are all he has right now, and still, it amounts to nothing.

He's guilty because he trafficked people and let a woman get assaulted in his home and has DUIs in three states. 

You're guilty because you defend him. Weak recognizes weak, and you might be the weakest person I know. People like you don't confront; you conform.

So then, we don't share the same blood. I don't recognize weakness because I'm not weak. We are not family. I don't associate myself with the unseemly the way you do, full stop. 

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