In 40 years you gave me 3 (clipped) compliments and at least 300 (detailed) criticisms.

All to build MY character.

Had we spent more time together, surely you would have “improved” me to death.

So…

You’ll forgive me if I never felt loved.

[“Like” was so far out of reach, I never even conceived it]

Mostly I raced and chased after your constantly climbing targets until I collapsed – empty, emaciated, and starving.

Your meager love gave out early. It never provided nourishment anyway.

What a waste of your precious time because I’m still wretched ME! All efforts to carve me into YOU failed.

No doubt you’re sad about that. I’m sad too because:

I DON’T [think I] MISS YOU ANYMORE.

Go ahead and hate me.

<Same shit, different day>