I'm glad that I'm not you.

I'm glad that I can take care of myself.

Go to the doctor when I'm sick.

I refuse to try and make people pity me, but it makes me mad that people do pity you.

You aren't deserving of it because I think you're full of shit. How can you seriously get to be your age and have all that you have given to you and still be a whiny little baby that thinks, "Poor Me".

I'll admit that I laughed when I heard you started taking Ozempic. Maybe if you took all that booze out of the cupboard you wouldn't gain all that weight and maybe if you dealt with your shit you wouldn't have to drink.

I'm glad I didn't have to give you those things because I rather see them end up in the garbage. I already regret the things I gave you because you don't deserve them.

All I can think of is all of my well taken care of things being given to you and ending up on your floor covered in dust and dog hair.

I can't trust anyone that would go out like you do covered in dog hair.