Even when I’m loud and scary my opinions mean nothing to you; I am only to be subservient, and I am to be less than human, or at least act like it. I am stupid and I’ll never curb your stubborn nature for even a second, as you have the divine right to trample over me, and nothing can trump that. I will never tell you when you are wrong, and I’ll always tell you, even when I’m right, that I am in fact, wrong.

I have not the even the smallest amount of judgment that I can use to make my own decisions; I see that I am blind, so I see how it’s necessary that you leash me so that I might not taste regret. I live so comfortably that it empties me of anything one might consider “thrilling”, or anything else for that matter. You are my ball and chain, preventing me from wandering, wandering around life, wandering around failure, around regret, around ecstasy, around women, and around anything else that may shake the boat.

You are the opposite of your parents, though, perhaps the extremes at both ends are just as destructive as each other. Perhaps love me enough to know me, to care for me, and to provide for me, but also love me enough to let go sometimes, remove the wet rag from my face and unchain me, just for a second.