It happened on page 33/34 single-spaced with the smallest Arial font while I’ve never taken Jintropin because it’s from China and Sylvester Stallone took it where it’s banned in Australia

I have the first 20 pages but “Hodge Podge” I have no “pudge” like Allyson Hodgkins does from when she squeezed out my baby she keeps secret but they stole my sperm when I was in the ICU in 2004

Were babies made with my stolen sperm ??? Allyson? Tiffany?

Here’s the first 20 pages that these jerks didn’t delete on my MacBook Pro that has “master-desktops” on, and my Samsung phone is hacked too by my-enemies who caused my bad injuries www.wrxtbi.com pages long

“I’m on”

I like warmer temperatures like in Green Turle Cay in The Bahamas

And I was “temped” to post the Travelogue I got a B+ in Creative Writing about my vacation there with my Dad and Mom, but some dead-soon fuck is hacking my MacBook Pro and I want to have sex with Natalie Portman for pleasure!

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Mom and Dad, 

I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve any of this, I’m sorry.

I know you’ve watched the news with a criminal event, “Not our boys.” I’ve brought evil into your lives, and I’m sorry.

Quite evidently, I’ve been a bad boy, which resulted in you junking through my room, discovering hidden misconduct. I’m sorry I made you frown. I’m sorry that you’re being dragged to court, where you’ve paid a man thousands of dollars in lieu of my wrongdoing.

I’ve been a real, real, and real scumbag, mooching off of you so much – the car – and clinging onto home as if I can’t survive anywhere else. I hadn’t added much to the dinner table, sitting there with a blank look and every so often throwing out a snide remark to get your attention.

You’ve expected a lot from me, the son whose education you PAID FOR, the son who feigned a smile for a ten-dollar bill, the son who, even now, remains a liability. Dad, a man at your business, the business you started, he joked that Justin – oh the good son – was going to live in Boston for the summer, and we both let out an uncomfortable laugh, then sighed. It struck a chord, and that hurt a piece of me.

Neither of you have shown any anger towards me, when I know it’s there, almost necessary, and I know I deserve a spanking in that I’ve given you rage. I’ve given you an inner temper, testing your limits, pushing you to the boundary of calm and peaceful marriage. I’m sorry.

You gave me the best, and I ruined it. I ruined some of it, and I’ll be working my ass off to repay this debt, not only in dollars, but I made you cry. I don’t like to think about that. 

Illogically but truthfully, I don’t feel like the same kid who broke the transmission in the Explorer. I don’t feel I’m the same kid who spent your money on beer and junk, who lived an easy life. I don’t feel like the same kid who junked around in the Sentra. I am, but that irresponsible and unthinking and lazy kid, yeah, he died. I am, but I’m not. I don’t feel any of that greed, that me me me me me priority. 

When I act so uncaring, hurrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr, like I know exactly what’s best for me, you’ve probably noticed that I don’t play that shit anymore, not for a couple months, and that’s because I’m finally getting the picture, finally, of all that you’ve done for me, when I didn’t even know what I’ve dragged you through, when I’m telling you how it was comparable to a vacation. I’m sorry.

Dad, you liked what I wrote about a what-if, what if the accident gave me much less injury? Yeah, that would be tragic. You know I’d sleep late, pout about no beer, and mope around, all glum about the car. THAT would be the tragedy. It’s a funny thing to say, and it must be funny to hear, right, but you should be thankful that I spent some time in the ICU. It’s made me a better person, compared to the crap way of conducting my life.

I want this to serve as the ultimate, and public no less, weepy pooh I’m sorry letter. I want you to come away from this knowing that I really do care, and how I do frown in thinking about how you’ve ONLY been there to help me out. Mom, I remember one night at Fairlawn you slept over, you laid down on an extra mattress to the side of my bed. Don’t think I didn’t notice it. That, keeping the journal of my stay, and taking me to my appointments. Dad, I remember right after I got out of the hospital, right after when I used a walker, you pulled me around the lake in a sled. I remember that.

Thank you for all that you’ve done since November 2nd, but thank you for all that you’ve done prior. I was a whiny bitch, but I couldn’t see it that way until now. I’ve screwed myself up, but I don’t want to let you down in the long run. I don’t want to let anyone down in the long run, and that’s why I’ll be living at my banged up potential, hoping that I result in more than I would have.

I do want to get out of the house, just, starting my own road. You’ve probably read how I’m putting all of my chips in, get outta here, get to a place where a car isn’t necessary. I don’t want you to misconstrue that as, get me away from them. It is, but it isn’t, you know what I mean.

Lately, your biggest Jeffrey concern has been, did he put anything inappropriate on his website? That pales in comparison to what you’ve faced. I’m trying to make it easy for you after so much concern, so much worry, but please keep in mind that I’ve only crashed a car. I didn’t kill Justin or burn down the house. I’ve only screwed up, crashing my car, yet I’ve seen more penalty than being grounded.

We’re closer as a result of my car crash, spending more time with you, home all day. Dad, bringing me into work, thanks. Mom, carting me around town, thanks. Someone joked that I’d always be home, but that’s when I didn’t want to let go of all you’ve given me. Now, almost reversing that, I’ll be there to lend a hand because of all that, I want to give back.