For the entirety of my short life, I have lived under this roof, mother, with your wife, and I realize you are happy. I am happy that this is so. But do you not realize that this is causing me much pain in the recent years? I support your alternative lifestyle, but for the love of all that is still good, please question me when I look like I’m fucked up. Yes, I’m into drugs, yes I’ve started smoking, yes I was drunk last night. This isn’t so much your fault as an unintended culmination of years of stress. People automatically either hate me or ask if I’m a homosexual. I cry my soul into this empty room at night. I want to be normal. I want you to be normal. Please mother, save me, save us, and don’t rub it in my face that your “piece of ass” is hotter than mine. I have respect for women because of you… but I also can’t deal with fellow males. I hate the way I’m developing as an individual. But be at peace, because in two years, I will not be your issue anymore. The US military will give me a family I never had. I think I love you.
Your son, CKW