That goes to you, Colin. Have you not fucked me up enough? Does it amuse you to see my face as you do your thing? Do you really follow me home from school sometimes or is that my imagination? That goes to you, Mum. Did you not see how much he was hurting me? For three years, did you really believe that what he was doing was right? How can you still love him more than me? That goes to you, Dad. You pretend to be so great, do you not remember when you left us? Would you be so proud of me if you knew how fucked up I am inside? Could you ever forgive me if I wasn't clever enough to follow in your footsteps and get into med school? That goes to you, school. Did you ever take any notice when I was bullied by gangs 3 years older than me? Did you ever let me off detentions when I said that me homework was at the wrong house? Will you ever notice that me moving to Dads was more than just a change of scenery? That goes to you, supposed friends. Is it too much to ask for a hug when I'm feeling down? Could you at least wait until I am out of earshot to mutter about what a bad mood I'm in? Would you ever be able to keep a secret? But most of all... Why can't the pain go away? Why do I see him even when he's not there? Why me?