There’s this guy I thought I could trust. Someone I thought I could rely on. Instead, I taught him how to navigate the dark net and now, he’s letting me write the rest of the narrative. He’s telling me it’s my fault for his adventure with whatever substances laced with fentanyl. After whatever he’s been through, he passes the blame to me, to which I cannot do anything but wallow because he is simply more powerful than I.

I don’t know if this was predestination, but it sure feels like it. I don’t know whether to be sad, angry, or proud of whatever he’s accomplished. I don’t know. The conversations that I had missed out on. I feel like I am losing. He’s more influential than I ever will be. He makes more money. He’s smarter. He’s everything that I am not. I’m writing this blog post on a website he’d probably never find. Or need to find.

Instead, I am thinking of the ways he could destroy me. He could hurt me dearly. I’m afraid of the legal powers he possesses. He has powers beyond my imagination. His authority laughs at my failure as I type words that contain nothing but sorrow and powerlessness.

This word: power. Power. Similar to authority. Cliche. You won’t get anywhere. That is the overarching narrative. You won’t get anywhere.

A second chance. Something to prove myself with. But I have nothing. I am a loser. I am sorry he has everything and I have none of it. It’s a simple hiccup. A small pothole in the road. Nothing to worry about. Nothing another realignment can’t fix. It’s not the end of the world.

I can’t get over this. I want to tell them. I’m giving up. It’s over for me.

His hustle. Ended with my muscle. My muscle massage. Fuck you. Goodbye.

Haha. Dads keep holding grudges against eachother because we fucked up eachothers’ childhoods. Not funny. Sorry. That is all. See you in three months.