I remember when you were embarrassed to hang out with me and my friends. That always hurt, but we invited you anyway, because we thought that we could be good influences. We loved you, and we thought that you loved us. We forgave you your faults, we were always there for you, we gave you space when you needed space, because we knew that we could be overwhelming. When you decided you were too cool for us, we backed off sadly, feeling betrayed, like we had lost something special. Well, you aren’t as special as we thought you were. You aren’t a baby bird that needs careful handling, you’re an animal with violent tempers, and strange impulses. When we made you cry, you were a little boy, with no idea of what you had gotten yourself into. Your mother will never understand you like we understood you. She will never admit that we are the best thing for you. All we can do now is watch you descend into recklessness with a solemn melancholy, and find a way to forget you, because you pushed us away. Bye.