We were so close. We got curious. We started smoking weed on the weekends. Not out of rebellion, just boredom. I knew my limits. I knew I was just doing it for myself, for the feeling, not for the image it was going to give me at school. You thought otherwise.

We drifted. It was okay because I’m not that kind of person that feels the need to climb the social ladder. But now it’s getting ridiculous. Yes, weed is bad, but when it comes down to it, it isn’t addictive, like cigarettes. Which you’ve also become hooked on. Or getting weed from a random guy that just happened to be laced with oxycontin. Your “best friends” change weekly. You only drive somewhere to pick-up weed.

Your Dad knows. It’s f****** killing him. He made these choices when he was your age. You KNOW for a fact that he regrets it. He wants to send you to treatment. You push him away. He can’t handle you being angry at him. You are manipulative and cruel. All he wants to do is help you out. What’s more important? Your relationship with your father or your precious weed and cigarettes? He’s the only parent you have. Why would you give up your father to smoke?

You’ve become a pretentious b****. You’re taking everything around you for granted. I hate to watch it collapse but no one can get it through your thick skull that you’re eventually gonna learn the hard way.

You’ve grown away from God, your family, and your true friends. It’s so sad. I hope one day you realize that your dad was right, and I hope it’s not too late.