August 4th, 2006

Forget Me Now

An Open Letter to My Family

I don't want to talk about marriage. I try not to think about it myself. It's not like anything I say matters. Everyone has their own plans for me. The hunt for my wife is on, and, sure, you say you have my best interests in mind, but, to be perfectly honest, I don't trust any of you to find the right woman for me. Because none of you fucking understand me. None of you seem to get me. If you did, you wouldn't continually try to mold me into something I'm not rather than accept me for who I am. I am not sure how I ended up in this family, where everyone cares so bloody much about me but won't extend this care to my person. Why am I the oddball? I would joke about being adopted except my dad's driver's license picture looks exactly like me, and my birth is the stuff of legend, what with the driving ninety miles to the hospital and all.

I've never seemed to fit in. My mom fucked me up good, and I'm defensive and private because of it. I am naturally isolated from all of you, and, frankly, I think the damage you've done is irreparable. You've tried your best to reach out to me, but it's obviously not working. I am a lost cause. My personal life is heavily shielded, and as a result, I haven't even allowed you to get to know me. And I still can't. Look at how careful I have to be in describing my interactions with women in this journal in case, God forbid, one of you stumbles upon it and gets the wrong idea. Rather than deal with the constant questions and assumptions, I choose to withhold information, as it keeps my blood pressure lower.

The sooner you all realize I'm a disappointment and a fuck-up, the happier you will be. Stop expecting anything of me. I'm so sorry I led you on for over twenty years, making you think I was special.