It’s giving Peter Pan vibes.

Dear He Who Must Not Be Named,

The last child support payment I received was for a small portion of your monthly obligation, 4 months ago.

You’ve been on multiple vacations, ran into my brother-in-law while golfing, out-of-state trips, and to the bar most every night for the past six months.

Our son’s needs will never be prioritized before your wants. Just a few more years of this, before our child realizes you’re a fraud.

Then you will have nobody left who believes in you.

Every child, every baby mama, every girl worth a damn, every friend that doesn’t share your appetite for self destruction and alcohol will see your mask for what it is. The facade that screams you need attention to survive: the weakest kind of man.

It’s giving dusty vibes.

I wonder if the mirror lies to you as much as you do to others. Or does the truth echo, “I’m a narcissist.”, when you stare back?

Yesterday, you expressed that you were having a hard time coping with being a single parent. You said, “You don’t know what it’s like having to do it all alone.”

Can you imagine?

I thrive away from you. Your energy and outlook on life are incomprehensible.

I can not wish you the best, though I do wish you far away. Allow me to save our child from your burning house.

At least the alcoholism will likely rob you of longevity. A mercy.