I'm sorry I fucked up your life, such as it was, 25 years ago. But the most fucked up thing I can imagine is that your are still living in that moment, unable to move past it and get on with your sad, addicted shithole of a life. Dredging up the past and delivering it to my coworkers in little anonymous envelopes? Seriously fucked up. I made the decision NOT to be the asshole who fucked up ALL the time a long time ago. I don't spend my days mentioning you on the interwebs or even considering your miserable existence. Get over it and get on with it. I doubt your friends want to hear about a 25-year-old excuse and certainly nobody else does. And if you're waiting for ME to explode in mid-air and destroy my job, my home and my family? Don't hold your breath. Or do. Works either way.
The views expressed in these submissions are from anonymous, unverified sources and do not necessarily represent those of the Portland Mercury.