Mom,
You didn't want me for so much of my life, and you show this fact repeatedly. You threaten to call the police on me after inciting violence in our own home. You talk poorly about me to others, even if what you say is a lie. Even if what you say is something that you did. You've threatened my life on multiple occasions, including with a firearm you got from Tom -- but now that narrative has changed. I can't imagine how you justify these beliefs, these words.
So, Katy Shea, Mom, you have harmed me in so many immeasurable ways, and you still question where you went wrong. You still blame me. I am still, forever and always, the devil child you were more than ready to rid yourself of once he turned 18. Now you scour the internet for any trace of him -- down to the blog he created 10 years ago, digging it out of Google Page 112. It's sad because you didn't ever have to be there, alone and empty.
You've made your choices, Katy. You've said your piece, you've made your bed. Now? You get to live and die in that bed, those words, and those choices. I hope to the highest of heavens that you can accept your position there, where you choose to dig in your heels.
You son doesn't want you either. Stop googling him.
Love and other lies,
Calum Doherty
