23. My dad. I can’t even remember the last time I spoke to my dad. It must’ve been at least four years ago. Every time we see each other at one of my brother’s events, it’s always awkward. But I guess it’s supposed to be awkward, isn’t it? He never had an issue with you or with us. It was just with me. It was always with me. He didn’t care who I loved. He just didn’t like me. I didn’t like him, either. During high school, every afternoon was like a yelling match between us. He wanted me to play sports. I wanted to express myself. “Self expression isn’t going to get you anywhere in life,” he would tell me, “but go out for the basketball team. Maybe even track. You’ll be healthy and learn what it’s like to be on a team.” I never was a team player. You were. I never was one for crowds. You were. I never was one for cheating. You were. I still don’t like my dad, and I probably never will. But you had nothing to do with that, did you?