Socio/Economic Footnotes

Dear Mom and Dad,

I wanted to thank you, first of all, for being the unwavering support you've always been to me all of these years.

(Wait, didn't I write the exact same thing to you last year?

Fuck...I guess so.)

It's been cold down here. I hope it's been nicer up there (snore).

You know how expensive my full-spectrum omega vitamins are, right? (probably not as much as I'm leading you to believe.) This week my supply is pretty scarce. Since I already call you and ask for so much so often, I thought I'd write a letter this time. (You know, snail mail...just like you guys were always so fond of me doing in the past. Does my nostalgic creativity earn me any points?)

Don't feel obligated to send me money, though (I know you will anyway). If anything, what I really need is some new(er) shoes. Shoe sizes are weird, so a gift card will be easiest (though plain money is, of course, always better).

Mom, you always made me write thank you cards for my holiday and birthday presents. (Why? Because it's less personal and obligatory than a phone call. I get it now.) I imagine it was to bridge the gap between traditional courtesy and modern flippancy. I feel bad that I haven't made more of an effort in my adult life (not really).

I've been thinking a lot about college recently, and possibly going back (how else am I supposed to meet women? Online dating has been a joke). What do you think? I'd probably major in education (and minor in late night Taco Bell runs).

There's no structure to this letter, I apologize (actually, I don't regret it one bit, but I still need you to send me money without feeling like I'm being an ungrateful asshole. Perhaps if I act more scatter-brained you'll be more willing to upgrade me to a better therapist, which will in turn help me construct a more distinctive yet palatable personality. That way I can get laid more.).

I just wanted to say that I love you guys, but sometimes I get sidetracked (and I'm too much of a pussy to tell you genuinely with my own voice).
You guys tell me this so much, and I'm sorry if I sometimes seem distant and have stunted affection

(I don't know if I really love you anyways, since the two of you encapsulate an ironic hybrid between a crippling obstacle to my unattainable goals and an ego-boosting encouragement to my weak self-esteem...the deadliest combination imaginable. This “love” is most accurately allegorized as a vaulted wonderland of unhealthy comfort that I refuse to depart from).
I'm working on that, please understand (don't give up hope on me, sweet parents, for the final advantages have not yet been taken of you).

Hope to see you guys soon! (a white lie, but how else am I supposed to end this damn letter?)

Love (doesn't exist),

-Your Son

PS:  I am not your son.  You can call me the demon of sobriety.