I’m sorry that both of your parents were mentally ill drunks who left you with the responsibility of parenting your other siblings, all of whom are now also mentally ill addicts/alcoholics. I'm sorry that I had to step back from your brother because his refusal to acknowledge his addiction was negatively impacting our relationship. I’m sorry that for some reason you still think you’re above all of them when you have a stocked wine cellar, full liquor cabinet, and separate fridge just for beer in your house. I’m sorry that your parents were unable to teach you healthy coping mechanisms that didn’t involve some form of self-medicating to the point where you just ignore or deny everything catching fire around you. I’m sorry that when your father came to live with you after losing his house and coping with your mom being in rehab that he became a full-blown alcoholic in part because you gave him free and easy access to all the booze he could possibly want while castigating him for smoking weed.

I’m sorry that your self-esteem is so low that you thought getting married, buying a house and filling it with expensive things, and having a baby with the high school dropout who cheated on you would fill the void inside of you. I’m sorry that you got exactly what you wanted and you’re still miserable because it’s a lot more difficult and a lot less fulfilling than you expected it to be, your husband is a jealous and controlling know-it-all who gets angry if you leave the room without telling him where you’re going in your own house, and that your kid likes to test your patience by screaming inconsolably anytime you attempt to feed or change them.

I’m sorry that you call yourself a feminist, but you’re so poorly self-actualized that your identity and value as a woman are completely entrenched in your roles as a wife and mother and that you become irrationally angry when anyone challenges those concepts, even abstractly. I’m sorry that you think you deserve entitlements and validation for choosing to have kids while denigrating the choices of other people, women in particular, who don’t want or need the same things.

I’m sorry that your husband cheated with your best friend over a decade ago and you’re still so jealous, angry, and insecure that you can’t wrap your head around the concept of open and honest polyamory. I’m sorry that your acceptance of the LGBTQIA community begins and ends with gay men you can have cocktails and watch re-runs of Sex and the City with, and that you think people in queer polyamorous relationships are careless, promiscuous cheaters who’d intentionally have unprotected sex and put themselves and their partners at risk.

I’m sorry that you lived, married, reproduced, and will probably die in the same county and state you were born/grew up in, while your other siblings traveled the country and had life experiences you will never be able to relate to. I’m sorry that you are so resentful of them for this that you’d tell your struggling, depressed addict brother who can barely hold down a job or take care of himself that it’s a sin that he doesn’t have children and he should be with someone who wants them. I’m sorry that your own relationship with your husband is so miserable that when your brother told you he wanted to work on our marriage rather than giving up that you told him you’d only support him if he got divorced and that you can’t understand why this sort of emotional manipulation is petty, selfish, and inappropriate.

I’m sorry that you’re so broken that you’d rather direct all this hate onto me and everyone else who isn’t like you, rather than look inwards for the true source of your own unhappiness and take steps towards remedying it. I’m sorry that you’re so wounded that you’re incapable of being happy for those around you who took a different path and that you’d try to drag your own friends and family down into the shit with you rather than make any attempts to climb out of it yourself.

I’m sorry that you despise and resent me while I just dislike and pity you, but I’m not sorry to say that bitch, I ain’t goin’ anywhere. So I recommend you get the fuck over it if you want you or your kid to have a relationship with your brother, because I’m not the one trying to force him to choose between two people he loves and basically telling him that my love and acceptance is conditional on him behaving the way I want him to. Everyone low-key hates your husband, so if I do end up peacing out, you realize your spouse will be the least liked member of the extended family, right? Also, if I’m so terrible, why do your parents still love and welcome me into their home? It’s almost like the people who have actually lived with your brother and I know more about our relationship than the frigid hypocrite cuntrag who couldn’t be buggered to visit her own brother more than once in the last six years, even when he was living barely two hours away, but still somehow thinks she knows what’s best for him. Funny how that works. 🤔

Warmest Regards,

Your Brother’s Queer “Psychotic Cunt” of a Wife

Dear Best Friend

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