it has been a week since you died. i hated you so much, i hated you for not believing in me, i know you never accepted me as a son before. your real son died and you tried to cover the pain by taking me in, that didn't help did it. i never thought of this shit from your point of view, but i am now, i am thinking why and how you are the way you are, let me start by saying that i actually tried to live up to your expectations, it wasn't healthy the more i think about it, i know i failed but i really fucking tried. i really really tried my best or what i believe my best was. i was always the last choice, i was always last, i wasn't allowed to watch the tv, i wan't allowed to use the real bathroom, i was just given a thin mattress to sleep on, you and her only bought shit for me when you really needed to, i don't get it, if i was so much of an inconvenience, why take me in at all? if i was such a failure from the start why keep at it? you should have just left me at the